


Shadows of Yesteryear

by ashes_of_roses (KendraLuehr), StagsInSilence



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Worship, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Fingerfucking, Messy Reunions, Multiple Sex Positions, Mutual Pining, Porn With Plot, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Showers, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-02-06 14:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12819048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraLuehr/pseuds/ashes_of_roses, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StagsInSilence/pseuds/StagsInSilence
Summary: After the infamous Red Dinner, Will and Abigail end up going their separate ways. Will moves to Florida for a life of simplicity, and Abigail seeks redemption by joining the FBI. But when a strange serial killer comes onto the Bureau's radar, Will is once more roped into the very life he fought so hard to reject. With Abigail as his new partner, the two of them never expect to be reunited with the Devil, himself. (Red Dragon AU)





	1. A Rocky Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> This is an RP exchange between myself and another RPer - I write for Will in this (empathicdesign.tumblr.com), and she writes for Abigail (tinyripper.tumblr.com), and we both took turns with the other featured characters. As the summary has indicated, this is an AU retelling of the Red Dragon storyline (both the book and the show), so it's a bit of a blend of all the mediums. Hopefully you enjoy! :)

Will's head ached. Hunkered over his makeshift desk, he rubbed his forehead with one hand and perused a case file with the other, a flask of Scotch tucked neatly away in his coat pocket, were he to ever need it. Molly and Walter grounded him –  _supported_  him – but just the thought of having to return to this line of work made him horribly dependent. He hadn't even wanted to bother ( _Molly_  hadn't wanted him to bother, either), but Jack knew exactly how to get under his skin. Families –  _children_  – had been the victims splayed haphazardly across the crime photographs, and Will had immediately felt his old, rusted white knight complex kick in. He needed to think like the monsters just one last time.

"Knock, knock!"

Will looked up from the gory photos and scrunched his brow, only smiling faintly when Beverly Katz held up a bag of fast food. "You shouldn't have…"

"Oh, it was no trouble. I always stop by Bingo's Burgers after a long, hard day of arduous 'formaldehyde-sniffing.'"

Will grimaced. "No, I mean you _really_  shouldn't have… I feel lousy enough as it is."

"Hmph. Suit yourself." Tossing the bag onto his desk, she moved around to have a seat along the edge, much like the old days. "We have a conference meeting in fifteen minutes, just so you know."

Will's expression was withering. "If I'm expected to make any progress on this case, I would prefer to work alone. Once I've familiarized myself with the specifics, I'll regroup and ask for assistance, should the need arise."

Beverly snorted. "Fat chance. After the shit you pulled back at Quantico, Purnell has explicit instructions for you to be monitored at all times. In other words, I'm your glorified babysitter."

"And?"

 _"And_  I say it's time for our meeting. Now come along, champ. But first!" She held up a hand, finally appearing apprehensive. "There's something you should know… Our latest addition to the team is an acquaintance of yours."

Will shrugged. "Is that truly so surprising? Despite my aversion to social networking, I still manage to get invites to quite a few Christmas parties. Arguably, I know  _most_  people from 'back in the day.'"

Beverly rolled her lips inward, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Think more  _personal,_  if you can. Someone you lost contact with over the years, more specifically."

"That's absolutely everyone," Will muttered. Now rising from his seat, he added, "I don't have time for guessing games, Beverly. Just tell me who it is and let's get this over with."

"Abigail Hobbs."

The color drained from Will's face, his stance stiffening as if his spine had turned to impenetrable steel. Soundlessly opening and closing his mouth, he shook his head before choking out, "I'm sorry, I…did you say  _Abigail?"_

Beverly nodded.

"And this was  _cleared_  by internal affairs? Christ, Katz, nobody told me I'd be working with my ward!"

"That's 'cause Jack didn't want you to know…he figured you wouldn't come if you did," she said, wincing at the underhandedness of her own statement. "But honestly, she won't get in your way. She's a bright, capable member of the team, and if I'm not careful, she just might steal my job." Laughing with the hopes of breaking the tension, she touched Will's elbow to get him to follow her. "Come on. We're all in the conference room."

"Unbelievable," Will muttered under his breath.  _Un-fucking-believable._  He hadn't seen Abigail Hobbs since that fateful night in Hannibal's kitchen. After he'd been eviscerated, the girl had fled out the back and tried to get some help. She had been the only one to make it out of that night unscathed (or at the very least, physically).

Will wanted to know the specifics on how Abigail had managed to get into the FBI in the first place (or more accurately, how she'd managed to pass the screening procedures), but before he could rattle off a barrage of questions, Beverly led him into a semi-crowded room filled with photographs and a crime board. Instantly, Will's eyes searched for Abigail in the group of agents, but Jack intercepted him.

"Will, our team would like to compare their findings with your own, if you're up to it."

Again, Will's eyes slid toward the group in question, his jaw tensing when he spotted the one face he'd be able to recognize in a crowd of one million. His heart sped to a dangerous crescendo, and he nodded once, spluttering out a barely audible affirmative.

"Wonderful," Jack said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. To Abigail, he asked, "Miss Hobbs, would you care to start us off?"

Will swallowed sharply, watching her as she rose from her seat. She had the same bright, calculating eyes, but there was a lissome quality to her figure now, and a heavy, world-weary weight behind her gaze. He wondered if she'd thought of him as much as he'd thought of her.

Abigail fidgeted with her notes. The atmosphere in the room was buzzing like the air before the first lightning strike of a storm; everyone was waiting on the reactions of everyone else. Abigail could feel Zeller's eyes on her as they waited, and Jack's as well when he wasn't pacing the width of the room with impatience. It had been a little over four years since their "Red Dinner" – as Lounds had coined it – and none of these people had really changed.

 _She_ had.

But the idea of Will coming back to the FBI, the idea of  _working with him_ … It all made Abigail feel like a little girl again. She wondered how Will looked these days. She heard the rumors about Italy. She saw the articles in Tattle Crime. But it wasn't the same as actually seeing  _him_.

With Will finally in the room, she couldn't think anymore. She had barely caught a glance of his dark hair before she instantly returned her gaze to her notes. She wasn't ready to face him yet. She wasn't sure she ever would be.

"Miss Hobbs, would you care to start us off?" Jack asked again, except more impatiently this time. His voice brought Abigail out of her head and she looked up, being sure to only look at her boss.

"O-of course," she said, standing up from the table. "Um, well, the papers have dubbed this man 'The Toothfairy' due to all of the biting. Clearly, it is a sign of dominance over his victims, and combined with the sexual nature of his M.O., he is more than likely impotent."

"He's quite the snaggletoothed son-of-a-bitch," Zeller added as he placed the killer's teeth casting onto the table. "My guess is, he's also ugly as hell based on the pegged lateral incisors. The teeth are all crooked, a corner is missing from this central incisor. The other incisor is grooved, here. It looks like a "tailor's notch," the kind of wear you get biting thread."

"Which is what makes  _me_ think that he's wearing dentures of some kind," Abigail said. "However, he gets in and out without anyone noticing a thing, so tracking down black market dentures will be near impossible."

As Abigail spoke, she saw Will watching her from the corner of her eye. It was distracting and flustering and she prayed she wasn't stammering. She sat back down and continued to avoid direct eye contact.

While Will listened, there was a slight waver in Abigail's voice, and it somehow pained him to hear her reluctance. After all, he very much doubted his being there was  _helping_  her nerves. From what he had been led to understand, this was her first real case.

"The guy's immaculate," Beverly spoke up, adding on to Abigail's assessment. "There are no fingerprints or fibers to analyze, which suggests he wore gloves and potentially murdered in the nude."

Will nodded once, barely able to focus. Even with everyone in the room, he could still only focus on Abigail's soft, oval face. He had once been asked if he hated Abigail for abandoning him, but his answer was always the same: no,  _never –_  he had  _told_  her to run. Between weakened breaths, he'd begged and pleaded until she'd turned on her heel and fled. He prayed that her demons were far less frequent than his own.

"Will?"

His gaze snapped up, stiffening once he realized Jack had addressed him.

"Don't you have anything to add?"

"I…" Swallowing thickly, Will released a breath before carelessly tossing his case file onto the desk. "The victims were all propped up along the walls, much like a captive audience. The perp, he…he wanted to  _see_  himself in their eyes – almost like a twisted form of adoration – so he placed the mirrors over top of their lids. He wanted them to see  _exactly_  what was happening to Mrs. Leeds." Head pounding, Will turned away a moment, suddenly desirous of his flask. "The man hates women. Or more accurately,  _one_ woman, and he's taking out his repression on innocent wives.  _Mothers."_

"A misogynist who doesn't leave a trace, unfortunately," Price muttered. "He raped these women, and yet the bastard wore gloves…"

Will's brow furrowed. "No… I mean yes, you're right, but with Mrs. Leeds, there was a hint of talcum powder on her thigh. When you remove a glove, the powder will often come off the latex." Hands tensing, he bit out, "He touched her…he couldn't resist." To Jack, he added, "I had requested working on this case alone, so I intend to return to my desk at this time. I will confer on occasion to share my leads, but thus far, everyone has echoed my own investigatory findings." He motioned toward Price. "You should check Mrs. Leeds for prints once more."

Jack began to fiercely interject, but Will had already stepped out into the hallway. Twisting the cap off his flask, he waited a moment before unearthing it from his pocket, now ducking into his temporary office to have a moment in peace. That was when he heard the door click.

"For fuck's sake, Jack, I  _told_  you…" He rounded about viciously, only to feel the words die in his throat. "Abigail," he greeted, immediately pocketing his flask. "I apologize for my behavior, but…I'm busy. Perhaps Special Agent Katz can help you with whatever it is you need."

It wasn't a complete brush-off, per se, but he was far too flustered to deal with her on top of everything else.

Abigail could see just how tired Will was. The strain of even being at Quantico seemed to be taking its toll already, and it pained her to think of him doing so poorly.

"I don't think Beverly can help with what I need," she said with a small smile.

"You'd be surprised," Will muttered. "Katz can be very resourceful." Still not lifting his eyes, he could detect the softening in Abigail's posture as she stepped further into the room, her stance lingering slightly before she moved into the lamplight.

"It's good to see you, Will. I've missed you…" Abigail paused as she noticed the ring on his finger. "You got married." It wasn't a question.

Her words had the effect of shrapnel, each tearing into him more strongly than the last. Will flinched once, pained, before he irritably shrugged it off. "You knew where to find me," he said. "I left your psychiatric hospital my contact information…you chose not to reach out."

Wincing at his own bitterness, Will rounded his desk before sitting on the edge. He held his hands out before folding them in his lap. Perhaps someone had confiscated his information – the idea wasn't  _impossible_  – since he might have been deemed too raw a wound for her to handle. It would be completely up to her doctors.

Abigail once more drew attention toward his left hand, and Will followed her gaze, now twisting the wedding band in question. "Yes," he finally agreed, "I did. Her name is Molly…we're raising her son together." There was a slight smile as he spoke, and a perceptible softening around his eyes. Molly and Walter were the only factors in life that kept him sane. "I would've told you, but like I said…you weren't interested."

"It's not that I didn't  _want_ to visit…" Abigail's brow furrowed at the cold accusation. It didn't take a profiler to see that Will was  _trying_ to hurt her. He was trying to push her away, punishing himself for some unknown reason. "I left you at Hannibal's. I didn't think you'd want to see me." She breathed a sad laugh to herself. "I visited you in the hospital before you woke up, if that stands for anything…"

She moved a little closer. Admittedly, it hurt to hear he had a happy family. Will Graham and a picket-fence lifestyle – it didn't fit with the Will Abigail remembered. It felt forced and unnatural… But it wasn't her place to tell him that.

"Why would you think I wouldn't want to see you?" Will asked, jaw tightening. "You could've asked… You could've read my letters." He paused a moment, uncertain.  _"Did_  you read my letters? Or did you just go on making more assumptions?"

Abigail's confession made Will's acerbic words stop cold, his eyes lowering as he folded his arms. He had dreamed of her once, while comatose – he was certain of it. Had she been there during that brief moment of clarity?

"Nobody told me that," Will softly said. "I wish I'd known…"

Abigail shook her head, "I couldn't bring myself to visit. I know that's a lame excuse, but…" She trailed off and shrugged. She didn't really know how to explain herself. When she received the letters, she had been overjoyed, but when it came down to opening them, she couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to face Will after all that happened, and she was afraid of what they might say.

Shaking his head, Will wiped at his face before digging into his pocket. He unearthed his flask, no longer ashamed. After taking a quick pull from the silver container, he paused before gesturing toward her. "I don't suppose you want some?" Not that he was  _encouraging_  this behavior, of course, but his father had always taught him it was rude not to offer.

As Will pulled out his flask, Abigail felt herself frown. And then he offered it to her and she found herself taking it. The whiskey burned her throat, but she kept from coughing as she handed it back and licked her lips. All she could taste was the liquor and she found that disappointing, as she wanted more.  _What_ more she wanted, she was unsure of.

"It's in the past," Will finally said, taking the flask back from her warm, smaller hands. "If you can forgive me, then I'll forgive you." He took another sip, watching her from over the rim of the container. "For what it's worth, I've missed you, too… I always wondered how you've been getting along. I wanted to invite you out to Florida, but…" He trailed off, shrugging as he pocketed the flask. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done."

"If you want to see me in a bikini, you don't need to invite me all the way out to Florida." Abigail laughed, but then realized what she had said and turned bright red. "I mean… I… N-nevermind."

If Will had still been drinking, he surely would have spat out a mouthful of whiskey. Staring back at Abigail in glassy-eyed shock, he fidgeted a moment before diverting his attention toward the window, suddenly unable to meet with her gaze. "Nobody's ever worn a  _bikini_  on my boat, but… I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Clearing his throat, he added, "So, uh…what's going on with you? Are you saddled to some lucky guy?"

Deep down, a part of him resented the idea. He squashed the sensation just as quickly as it had come, refusing to look deeper into why that might be.

"No," Abigail admitted. "No, I'm not seeing anyone. My…uh…my  _history_  tends to attract only a certain kind of guy that doesn't really fit with being in the FBI and all that."

Abigail tried to smile, but it didn't work.

She appeared a little ashamed, and instantly, Will felt sorry for asking about her love life. "Who you attract has no reflection on who you are as a person," he assured her. "You're young and smart, Abigail…very beautiful, too. You'll find the right one after a while. You'll see." His smile grew sad and lopsided. "If it could happen for me, it'll happen for you."

"Yeah, whatever you say." She rolled her eyes cynically. Abigail had already resigned herself to remaining alone. "You know," she added, trying to change the subject, "I'm curious about how Jack got you back. I heard about the Verger incident, and can't imagine that you would want anything to do with," she motioned around the room, "any of  _this_."

Will's smile faded. "What part of the 'Verger incident' are we talking here?" he coolly asked. His issues with the Verger family far surpassed what had happened at Muskrat Farm.

"Well, from Tattle Crime, I know your so-called 'honeymoon' didn't go so well, and Alana gave me the highlights of what happened to Mason Verger. Zeller wouldn't shut up about 'the trial' or 'the arrest.' I basically just have a simple understanding of everything. Jack wanted to keep me out of the loop as much as possible."

"Lounds' trash never tells the full truth – you know that," Will muttered. "What happened on that farm isn't important. In the end, Hannibal was apprehended, and that's all that matters." He screwed his eyes shut a moment, then opened them slowly. "We both have our share of scars, Abigail – deeper than anyone could ever imagine. But at this point in your life, I want you to try and let go of that burden and move forward. Our eyes are on the front of our head for a reason." He stepped forward then as if to touch her – perhaps even embrace her as he'd desired when they'd first reunited – but he finally moved away, feeling cold and dreary as he headed toward the window. "This case is difficult," he softly admitted. "I'm not so sure I can think like the monsters anymore… And although that's undoubtedly a good thing, it sure as hell isn't going to help you any."

Abigail winced. "You're avoiding the question," she said, "which I think is because you  _know_ Jack only wanted you because you can think like a killer, not like a profiler."

Will scowled. "I'm avoiding the question because Hannibal doesn't have a  _goddamn thing_  to do with this case," he bit back, and perhaps far too brusquely. "I've had to deal with him – unspoken and acknowledged – for the past  _five years now,_  so if it's alright with you, I'd much rather not dignify the elephant in the room."

"I just wanted to know how Jack convinced you to get back up here," she muttered, feeling attacked. She knew Will didn't mean it, but it still stung.

 _Unfair._  Will knew he was being cruel, especially since Abigail had every right to discuss the man that had ruined both of their lives. With his grip tightening by his sides, he exhaled once and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Abigail…I shouldn't have snapped at you. Please try and understand that this is  _beyond_  difficult to not only be forced out of my comfort zone, but to also discover that my estranged ward is working on my case  _all in the same day._  I know it's no excuse, especially since we've  _both_  suffered under Hannibal's influence, but…I'm trying. Truly."

Abigail flinched at Hannibal's name, and one of her hands absently moved to toy with the collar of her shirt near her infamous scar. Abigail did her best to imagine how hard all of this was for Will, but found that his exact feelings were, as always, just out of her reach. She was just a regular profiler, no better than someone like Alana. Will was uncontained and uncontrolled, empathic energy that she would never understand outside of how she had learned to lie to him. Hannibal had seen to that. Hannibal had tried to make her a killer…the same way he tried to make  _Will_  a killer.

After turning away from the window, Will slipped his hands into his pockets and slowly approached her. "Far be it for me to be presumptuous, but are you staying close by? I could take you out for dinner before dropping you off…" He waved a hand. "Not  _official_  dinner, of course – something that wouldn't attract attention, like a hole-in-the-wall fast food restaurant. So it may not be world class, but at least we'd be avoiding media attention." He offered a frail smile. "Besides… I want to know what's been going on with you. We've got several years to catch up on, so I'd like to hear all about it. If…if you'll allow me the privilege."

"I have my place in the city," Abigail said. "If dinner wouldn't be weird, I think it could be nice to catch up." She was unsure of what she wanted around Will, and felt this was yet another situation where it would be best to follow his lead instead of taking it herself.

Will tried not to show his surprise. "You live here?" Naturally, it should have been expected. To commute to Quantico day in and day out would be exhausting (despite the fact that he had done so), but somehow, he had been expecting her to be in a hotel just as he was. It was difficult imagining Abigail with a home of her own. He cleared his throat. "Of course it's not weird," he assured her, even though he felt as if he were lying. "I'm the one who extended the invitation, so naturally, I'm interested in knowing what you've been up to. If it helps any, I'm…really proud." He lowered his eyes then, smiling despite his discomfort. "You've risen above the ashes, just as I knew you would. You're easily the bravest person I know, Abigail. Nothing can stop you."

Abigail blushed and looked at the floor as he praised her for a bravery she didn't believe in. "I'm the one who ran, Will. That's hardly bravery…"

Will swallowed past the dryness in his throat and exhaled. "You're wrong," he assured her. "You've been through so much –  _done_  so much – that you can't possibly be expected to show strength 24/7. And believe me, running away wasn't cowardly…it was smart. If you'd stayed, he would have killed you."

Abigail ignored the lump in her throat. Instead, she deflected with, "You never answered my question earlier… How did Jack get you to come back?"

"He knows my weaknesses," Will mumbled. "He showed me photographs of brutally murdered families… _children._  And despite the fact I knew the baiting was underhanded, I had to come. I can't let more people die because of my pride." He looked to Abigail curiously. "Isn't that why you joined the Bureau? To save lives? To undo the wrong you've caused by doing something right?"

Abigail thought about Will's question. She joined the FBI to prove everyone wrong. To prove that she wasn't doomed to be a killer like her father. But that already wasn't true, was it? She  _had_ killed people. Was she really trying to redeem herself?

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Will added, "Jack can't detain me for long, so I'm going to head on out. If you'd like to join me, now would be the time."

There was a pause between them and Abigail looked at her watch. Jack would probably assume she took off for the night to catch up with Will, and that was fine with her. "Lead the way," she said.

With a fond smile, Will held out his arm for her to take. When she accepted, curling her soft, warm hand into the crook of his elbow, he led her out toward the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kept things a bit slow-ish for the start. If you would like to follow me on Tumblr, my URL is musicboxmemories. :) I post plenty of Hannibal-centric trash. ;) Anyway, this storyline is definitely an emotional roller coaster, so I hope you all will enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it! Admittedly, splicing our replies together takes a LONG time, so any encouragement helps to move things along. :) Thanks so much for reading!


	2. Never Quite Eye-to-Eye

“So, uh…do you have a favorite fast food place you’d prefer?” Will squinted over at Abigail, fumbling with the keys to his car. “I, myself don’t really care, but…I figured it’d be easier to speak freely in a place like that than a regular restaurant.”

“Doesn’t really matter to me,” Abigail said. “I think shitty Chinese would go best with whatever it is you’ve got in that flask.”

“Shitty Chinese?” Will echoed, chuckling slightly. “I’ll admit it’s been a while since I had Chinese, shitty or otherwise. And who knows? Maybe we’ll have an uplifting fortune cookie at the end.”

Abigail’s smile flickered with hesitance. She had no clue how much Will had had to drink, and it was now clear that he was unsteady on his feet – although it _wasn’t_ clear if that was PTSD or the booze. “Should you be driving right now?”

As Will unlocked the car, he spared her a startled look over his shoulder. Shame colored his features and he looks away, nodding quickly. “You’re right, I’m sorry…I trust you to drive, if that’s what you wish. I won’t bother telling you that I have the constitution of a racehorse, ‘cause that’s nothing to be proud of.” He handed Abigail his keys, now curling her fingers around her hand. “Don’t tell my wife about the drinks. Ah…if you ever meet her, that is to say. I think she’d like you.” He didn’t bother adding how he’d spoken of Abigail quite a bit before their marriage.

Will’s fingers moved across Abigail’s and she felt herself blush. She did her best to hide it behind her hair and focus on the keys as Will rambled. At the mention of his wife, she honestly stopped listening and simply nodded her acknowledgement.

Getting into the passenger seat, Will rubbed his face and waited for Abigail to crawl in alongside him.

 “I know a good place,” Abigail said, getting into the car and changing the subject back to food. “It’s gross enough that it’ll be empty, but good enough that we don’t need to worry about food poisoning. Can’t promise it’s actually chicken, though.” Another bad joke she hoped would land. “If that works for you?”

“Well with a rousing endorsement like _that,_  how can I possibly say no?” Will ribbed. “I’m not so sure I’m keen on ‘not-chicken-and-is-probably-cat’ meat, but I suppose I shouldn’t knock it ‘til I try it.”

As she started the car, Abigail risked a glance towards Will in the passenger seat. He looked so different. His hair wasn’t as messy, his face not scarred nearly as badly as she thought it would be, and he was still so very handsome. But there was something missing in his eyes from before… She wasn’t sure what it was that had died in them, but there was a glimmer no longer present. Abigail wondered if that light would still be out if she’d stayed and helped him, or if everything had gone according to plan. Would they really have been able to have a life away from the FBI with Hannibal?

Will rolled his lips inward. “It’s very rude to stare, you know,” he said, though there was no malice to his tone. “If you have a question about my face, I suppose I don’t mind answering. I’ve told Molly most everything, so I can definitely tell you.” He flashed Abigail a sad smile. “You look good, you know. It’s nice to see that one of us pulled out of this for the better. And you said you have a house? Or is it an apartment? Any pesky roommates?” His smile grew more warm as he directed his gaze toward the windshield. “Molly and I own a cabin. We couldn’t just settle for any old place, because our dog count keeps growing. Do you have any pets? Or, uh…do you  _want_  one? ‘Cause I have a few strays I should give up.” He waved a hand. “No pressure, of course…I just think you’d be perfect for the task.”

He was rambling. Will couldn’t remember the last time he’d prattled on so much, but Abigail Hobbs made him nervous. He  _wanted_  her to like him, though he could never figure out why her approval was so important to him.

Abigail smiled as Will floundered. “Will,” she said lightly, “you don’t need to try so hard. I’m a big girl. Life moved on. It’s fine.” She was only telling him half-truths there, for his sake. “Not that I was expecting anything, but after everything I heard, I thought you’d be…well, more roughed up. You honestly look – physically – a lot better than I imagined.”

“It could’ve been worse,” Will softly agreed. “I won’t lie to you…a part of me had resigned myself to die, so I was at peace by the time Hannibal and I were captured by Mason’s goons. I mean, I didn’t  _want_  to die, but I had certainly accepted it. I thought maybe it was for the best…for everyone.”

People always seemed to get hurt on Will’s behalf, and he was sick of it. He hoped that the pattern was finally over.

Abigail chewed her lip, desperately wanting his smile to return. So rather than dwell on their pain, she returned to his other questions. “I have a too-small apartment, but I’ve got it all to myself.” She paused. “Well okay, not _all_ to myself – it’s me and Chablis. He’s a big, grumpy cat I rescued off the fire escape two Christmases ago, aptly named after my drink of choice that night. He’s pretty much lived in my laundry basket ever since.” 

Abigail pulled out of the parking lot and drove steadily towards the city. “I guess you could say I picked up your old habits. Though I could  _never_  take Winston away from you. Th-that is if he’s still around…? How does he feel about your wife?”

Abigail didn’t really  _want_ to talk about Will’s wife. It felt off. But it was certainly a topic that might break the anxious tension in his shoulders when he looked at her. 

Abigail’s sudden admission caused Will to laugh, his eyes crinkling warmly around the edges as he spared her a disbelieving grin.  _“Chablis?_  I didn’t realize you were so ‘well-to-do,’ Abigail. Though in your defense, I’m sure I would’ve named him Jim Beam. At least you have some class.”

Abigail gave a faux gasp. “Hey! It was Christmas Eve, and I had nothing to do. I think I’m allowed to splurge on a $30 bottle of wine. I’m not a snob for the vintages. Chablis would probably hate you because of all the dog smell. N-not that you smell, I just mean he’s a cat… He knows these things. And he  _is_ an asshole.”

Abigail’s assessment made Will chuckle. “Your cat’s an asshole? Well…that’s one thing we have in common, then. I wouldn’t be called ‘friendly’ by anyone.” Her back-pedaling made him smile. “Don’t worry, I know what you meant. Though I doubt he’d be any more forgiving if I smelled like a cat.”

He had missed this. Even though he and Abigail had never quite spoken easily, Will had yearned for her pleasant, unwavering presence. He nearly touched her arm then, but refrained from the affectionate impulse.

Part of Abigail wanted to offer to just get takeout and invite Will over to try and befriend her cat, but immediately thought better of it. They’d only  _just_ reunited, and thus far, it wasn’t the smoothest reunion in the world. He might misinterpret her intentions, and the last thing Abigail wanted was to push away what she was only just getting back.

“Winston’s still around,” Will added, taking her back to the present. “I think he’ll be spry up until the very end, fortunately.” He glanced at Abigail, a little surprised that she had taken the initiative to bring up Molly. Ever since she’d discovered his marital status, she had been quick to ignore all conversation that led to the inevitable. With a smile, he said, “Winston loves everyone. I’ll admit he had a certain fondness for you – probably more than myself, the traitor – but he enjoys Molly. Othello is her favorite, though.”

Abigail spared another glance over at Will. “Winston isn’t her favorite, and yet you still married her? Wow. I would’ve thought that would be a deal breaker.”  

“Winston approves,” he assured her. “Walter took some getting used to though, since he was a bit rambunctious at first. He tried to get ‘pony rides’ on the backs of the bigger dogs.”

After they pulled into the restaurant parking lot, Will unhooked his seatbelt. “I hope you’re thinking of as many crazy college anecdotes as possible, because I want to know every little detail of these past few years, no matter how small.”

They got out of the car and Abigail led the way inside. “That sounds like a treat to deal with. Bet you were on the verge of a heart attack the entire time. Though honestly, my experience was pretty normal…outside of a few assholes and Alana’s overprotectiveness.” She trailed off as they made their way to the host stand inside the door, and a man led them to a table in the back of the restaurant. “I think a little bit of everything sounds perfect right now,” she said, glancing over the menu.

Will pretended to be immersed in his own menu. “A little bit of everything might be a small fortune, but tonight is a means for celebration. If that’s what you want, then that’s exactly what we’ll get.” He smiled up at her. “I hope you realize I’m relying entirely on your expertise. I don’t indulge much in Chinese.”

Abigail scoffed. “If eating was considered ‘expertise,’ I would’ve been much better off at school.”

Will winced. “Was college really that bad? I had plenty of assholes to deal with, but I still had a good time…” Some of which he wouldn’t disclose with Abigail. “When I was a beat cop, I actually had quite a few interesting hijinks with my partner.”

While Abigail read her menu, Will discreetly appraised her. She was still the same, and yet somehow there was a more worldly, mature quality to her face. He remembered their first and only kiss – of how  _young_  she’d seemed when she’d clung to him and spoken of how lost she felt. He’d said he was lost too. And then she’d turned her mouth to his, and it had been all teeth and tongue, messy and inexperienced, much like the way a girl would kiss if she were raised on books and movies to instruct her on sexuality. He very much doubted she would kiss that way anymore. Nevertheless, he felt ashamed for even contemplating it.

Abigail pursed her mouth, finally lifting her head. “It was…well, it was interesting to be in school. Alana picked a lot of fights with people over my dad, and eventually, I stopped caring about all of that. One time though, I nearly got expelled from the Academy when a classmate brought up  _that night_. Said a lot of shit about you and I broke his nose.” She laughed lightly. “Although, all things considered, he probably got off lucky on that one.”

Abigail’s admission was admittedly startling. “You broke someone’s  _nose?”_  Will echoed, trying to hide the laugh that was bubbling in his throat. “Christ, Abigail…you couldn’t weigh more than 110 pounds wet, and yet you  _broke his nose?”_ This time he didn’t hold back the laugh, and it rumbled deep in his chest, soft and warm. “You didn’t have to do that. Though like you said, I guess he got off lucky.”

Abigail shrugged, smiling widely at Will’s laughter –  _God,_ she missed that laugh. “The prick didn’t last long anyway. He dropped out not long after, because he couldn’t take the strain.” She paused before picking at her nails. “It pissed me off too much to hear people badmouthing you to just let it slide. I guess you could say punching him acted as a warning to everyone else, and helped me prove my worth.”

“The strain of the workload, or the fact he got beaten to a pulp by a girl?” Will quipped, smiling with a touch of fondness. It was probably  _wrong_  of him to be proud of her over something so unethical, but he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest as he stirred some cream into his coffee.

Abigail looked up from the menu and met Will’s eyes. He’d been staring at her the same way she’d stared at him in the car. A soft smile crossed her lips, which she unconsciously licked before turning back to the menu. “I’ll make sure we just get the good stuff,” she assured him. Waving over their waiter, she ordered several items she knew were good, while still satisfying the need for grease. Nothing cut tension better than grease. 

“How about this,” Abigail offered, “I’ll tell you juicy college tales if you tell me stories of your own. I haven’t seen  _you_  in forever, either.”

Will glanced up with a raised brow. “Alright,” he agreed, “that sounds fair…what would you like to know?”

“Hmmm,” she mused mischievously, but without actual intent to poke at him too much. “What’s the most ridiculous thing you ever did at the Academy? Did you go to the FBI Academy? Or just PD? Either-or. Let’s hear about some young Will Graham shenanigans.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You actually think I have  _shenanigans?_  Well…my partner was a bit on the crazy side, so I was considered the levelheaded, competent one, if you could believe it.” Smiling, he shrugged. “I only made it to the Louisiana PD. My partner, Joel Fife, was a complete prankster and an overall dimwit. He liked to talk, and I…well…did  _not.”_  Looking down at the table, he absently fiddled with his silverware. “I was  _constantly_  having to ride Fife’s ass like an abrasive parent, because he just wouldn’t listen. He was always doing stupid shit, like putting pepper spray on pizza for ‘added flavor.’ Never mind the fact that that pepper spray was government property.”

The waiter came back with several steaming dishes, and Will paused long enough to accept the plates. With the food in front of him, he looked to Abigail and smiled. “Sometimes, we would train with the FBI, so he put formaldehyde in my thermos once. Truth be told? Formaldehyde incites hunger, so that actually helped my appetite. I didn’t know anything was ‘off’ until he started guffawing like a hyena.”

Abigail wrinkled her nose at Will’s story. “That’s disgusting. I’m pretty sure pepper spray isn’t entirely edible either. And _please_ tell me you didn’t take to drinking formaldehyde…”

Will laughed, shrugging as he unraveled his silverware from the napkin. “Pepper spray is edible…I just highly wouldn’t recommend it. Joel had heartburn for hours.” Lips lifting up into a wry smile, he prodded, “Do you really take me for a fool? The formaldehyde may have encouraged my appetite, but I certainly didn’t go sneaking into the lab to get continuous refills.”

Abigail began digging into her food and groaned in satisfaction. “Okay, my turn. What do you want to hear?”

Will mulled over her query, trying not to seem too eager. He admittedly had a lot of questions. “I hope this won’t sound too underwhelming, but what was your favorite course of study? You’re a bright and intelligent girl, so I have a feeling you challenged your professors at every turn.” He smiled crookedly. “Ever get kicked out of a class? I admittedly did once… It’s very rare that I open my mouth without provocation, but when I  _do,_  I can be a bit on the defensive side.”

A small giggled bubbled in Abigail’s throat. “Wait.  _You_ got kicked out of class? Seriously? I find that more than a little hard to believe.”

Abigail’s incredulity made him laugh. Rubbing at his whiskered cheek, Will’s eyes twinkled as he shrugged. “What can I say? I may not be a rebel, but I had quite a few professors who detested me. It didn’t take much to set some of them off. Professor Rathsburg, in particular, kicked me out because I had the gall to argue with him on his position in a case. I’m sorry, but to this day, I  _still_  maintain he was horribly misguided. The evidence was all there.” He motioned to Abigail. “But go on, tell me: what was your favorite course of study?”

Abigail sucked some sauce off her spoon. “Honestly? I liked the wound analysis stuff. It’s morbid, and maybe I  _shouldn’t_ have liked it best because of… well…” She trailed off with a shrug. “I felt normal and I knew what I was looking at. So much of everything hasn’t felt  _normal_ in…in  _years_.”

As she spoke, Abigail kept her eyes on her plate. Will wouldn’t want to hear about any of this. That part of her past didn’t hurt anymore. Months of therapy and living with Alana and Margot helped her just…get over it.

“It’s not morbid,” Will assured her. “To be frank,  _most_  people take an interest – perhaps an  _unhealthy_  interest – in what directly relates to them. In my case, I was drawn to decomposition. Fortunately, I had no personal reason behind my interest, but after I was stabbed while working the beat, I had a higher fascination with wound analysis.”

Abigail continued to smile, feeling the tension in Will dissipate the more they talked. His eyes were beginning to shine the way she remembered, and his smile made her heart flutter. And then he laughed. Abigail couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Will laugh, and she hoped her face wasn’t flushing at the…less than appropriate warmth the sound gave her.

“I’m liking this rebellious version of Will Graham,” she teased. “Maybe I’ll get to do battle with him someday.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Do go on about fighting your professors. Were you that annoying student who corrects everyone on details, or did you go the other way and play the ‘suck an egg’ route?”

Will grinned. “I wouldn’t mind a good old-fashioned spar here and there,” he agreed, smirking at her from across the table. “And in your case, I might actually feel  _challenged_  for a change. If anyone knows how to put me in my place, it’s you.” He chuckled under his breath. “Well…and Molly, but she’s not allowed to know I said that.”

“My lips are sealed,” Abigail promised.

She leaned forward then, and Will found himself mirroring her posture, a smile still on his lips as he rested his weight on his forearms. “Don’t get too used to it. If I tell Jack to ‘suck an egg,’ I’ll get thrown out on my ass. Not that that’s a  _bad_  thing, of course.” His smile grew crooked. “I’d say I was probably more of the ‘annoying student’ type, though I was certainly passive aggressive in most instances.” Idly, he stirred his food around on his plate. “Regardless, this isn’t overly  _fair,_  Abigail. You’ve asked multiple questions in a row now. Are you _purposely_ trying to hide what’s happened with you these past few years?”

Will mimicked her movements and Abigail felt herself blush again.  _This_ was the Will Graham she remembered, and seeing him like this made relief wash over her. Her Will was still in there. 

Mentally kicking herself for that incriminating thought, Abigail brought her attention back to what he was saying. His eyes looked concerned and hopeful – a look typically reserved for when he wanted Abigail to talk to him at the hospital – and she couldn’t exactly ignore the query. “Hey! It was all relevant to the flow of the conversation. I didn’t hear you complaining at the first round of questions.” She winked at him playfully and looked at the table.

There was a slight flush in Abigail’s cheeks, and Will discreetly found himself checking the thermostat. Was it too warm? He didn’t consider himself the best judge, considering how he was accustomed to Louisiana summers. Her defensiveness made him chuckle. “Fair enough. Though I doubt I’d ever complain in your instance. There was a time when I delighted in you just  _looking_  at me, seeing how you seemed so averse to my presence. Not that I could blame you… I always came on too strongly.” Not to mention the fact he’d  _slain her father,_  though he would much rather leave that part unaddressed.

Now observing her closely, Will found himself unable to avert his gaze from her bright blue eyes for long. On impulse, he curled his hand over hers on the table, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. “Thank you for coming out here with me,” he murmured. “I’ve really missed you.”

Abigail drew a breath. How did one pull away without hurting someone’s feelings? She couldn’t exactly handle this. 

“I, uh… It’s not exactly _easy_ to explain away your death, and then continue to constantly have to prove you  _aren’t_ the Minnesota Shrike Junior.” Abigail pulled her hand away before muttering, “I’ve missed you, too, Will…”

With his hand on hers, there seemed to be a shift of discomfort in Abigail’s eyes. Will felt himself grow cold. He should never have sought physical affection – both Hannibal and Hobbs had used touch to manipulate Abigail, so there was bound to be discomfort for all  _sorts_  of reasons. 

“I…I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Of course not. Though in your defense, most have forgotten about your involvement by now. All people see when they look at you is what you’ve become, not who you once were.” Abigail seemed to retreat further, and he felt even colder than before. Her soft assurance made him look up and he drew a breath, now rolling the edge of his napkin in between his fingers.

“Abigail,” he cautiously began, “perhaps it would be best if we addressed the elephant in the room. The last time we were truly alone, a certain… _physical_  form of affection was expressed, and there was no true resolution between us. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me.” He frowned, lowering his eyes to the table. “I don’t want to ruin things when this night has been so pleasant, but I also feel it would be unfair to you if we didn’t discuss what happened.”

“Will,” Abigail said with mild exasperation. Did they  _really_ need this conversation? Well…the answer was very obviously yes, but Abigail didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to admit how her heart fluttered when she’d heard he was coming back, or how it had dropped when she’d learned he was married. 

With a sigh, she tried again, “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable around you, Will. It’s just…” She ran a hand through her hair and sat back heavily against her seat. “Christ, Will, I was in love with you. You  _know_ that... Or at least, I thought you did. I get that I was young or whatever, but that didn’t change how I feel. I don’t know what to  _do_  around you. This is the sanest I’ve felt since I started working under Jack, but then you say these little things and everything feels  _wrong_ somehow… Like it did after I kissed you in Minnesota.”

Abigail ran a hand over her face before picking up another fork-load of food. “Okay, your turn.”

Admittedly, Will had  _not_  known Abigail had harbored romantic intentions, and he froze up, his fingers tightening around the fork in his hand. Shit, shit,  _shit._  He’d assumed it had been a crush, at the very most – something easily swept under the rug, just like with the average schoolgirl fantasy.

Clearing his throat, Will slowly shook his head. “If it feels  _wrong,_  that should be your answer – it  _is_  wrong, Abigail, because nothing between us ever could have happened. And least especially now, because I love Molly very, very much. I’m incredibly happy with my new family.” The word  _family_  had harbored many negative connotations before now – specifically ones brought on by Hannibal and his perversions – but now there was a reason for him to breathe again. Nevertheless, it pained him to see Abigail opening herself up to rejection. She was still so fragile…

“It’s not that I don’t care,” Will continued, carefully measuring his words. “I do – I  _always_  will – but I can’t care for you in the way that you need, and the sooner you can accept that, the easier this will be on all of us. I worry for you.” He thought of reaching for her again, but ultimately knew it would be detrimental. He exhaled slowly. “I just want things to be the way they were…you’re important to me, Abigail, and I know I’ll never be able to abandon you, no matter what happens. And that…that’s rather  _frightening,_  especially if your infatuation never goes away. I want to be in your life, but not if that means hurting you in the process.” He swallowed. “Before Molly, you were all I had. I never let you go…and I’d rather not have to start because of some misguided emotions.”

“Is _that_ what you think my feelings are?” Abigail felt anger bubbling inside of her and she crossed her arms over her chest. “ _Misguided_ _?_ Just another little girl who’s suffering from some Damsel-In-Distress syndrome, right?”

Will felt his jaw tense. “Abigail,  _don’t,”_  he pleaded. “You know that’s not what I meant. Perhaps not misguided so much as  _improbable,_  because I won’t ever leave my wife. And there’s nothing about you that’s a damsel…even if I might have wanted that at some point.” Guiltily, he lowered his eyes. “I never should have treated you that way. I don’t know what I was hoping to achieve, exactly, but I was trying to delude myself into the idea that you could fulfill everything in life I was lacking. And that was completely unfair.”

Abigail almost laughed as she felt her hand start to tremor, a lingering symptom of her PTSD that arose whenever she couldn’t control her stress levels. “This was a bad idea, Will. We aren’t colleagues, no matter what Jack says. I’ll always be the little girl who should have died in her kitchen.”

A lump formed in Will’s throat. “Don’t you ever say that again,” he warned, his tone tight and quavering. “Just because you cheated death doesn’t mean you  _deserved_  to die. You’re alive – you’re  _here_  – so you need to make the most of that.”

Abigail rose and Will found himself doing the same, his expression guarded as he moved to cut her off. With his hands on her elbows, he gently steered her around and sought her gaze with his. “I’m sorry,” he told her sincerely. “For you, I wanted everything to work out. You’re the bravest, most deserving person I know, and I wish I could make it up to you.” He swallowed past the ache in his throat. “You’re not a little girl anymore, and you’re right – a part of me  _will_  always view you in that light, and feel the need to protect you. But I’ve seen what you can do, Abigail. I’ve seen just how  _capable_  you are, and I know that in time, as you interact with my colleagues, I’ll learn to accept that you don’t need me anymore.” Trembling, he tucked her head beneath his chin and wrapped his arms securely around her shoulders, his hand rubbing between her shoulder blades as he attempted to calm her down. “If you want, I can take a Taxi home. There’s no sense in torturing you over this.”

Abigail felt tears in her eyes as Will spoke, and her tremors increased in intensity. It was getting difficult to breathe, and she wasn’t sure if it was from being generally upset, or if it was stress-induced. All she knew was she needed to leave. She needed to get away. Abigail shook her head, not wanting to hear any of this.

“Stop it,” she choked out. “Just…just  _stop talking_. You’re just like  _they_ werewhen you talk like that... When you use too many damn words to get a simple point across. You’re not interested because you’re married. Or you’re not interested  _and_ you’re married. That’s all you needed to say, Will.” Abigail dropped her coat amidst her anger. “You have  _no idea_  what I’m capable of, so stop pretending like you do.”

She grabbed her coat for a second time, and tried to leave when Will grabbed hold of her. She fought against him as he tried to make eye contact, and froze when he finally did. The next thing she knew, Will had pulled her into another hug, and she felt the tears actually fall.

Pressed against his chest, Abigail listened to Will’s heartbeat and used that to try and stop the tremors. This was, quite literally, the closest she’d been to anyone in…well, _years._ Not even Alana embraced her, let alone like this. 

“I can get myself home,” she muttered. “You should be fine to drive by now.”

Will felt pained and helpless as he held her. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he told her. “I’m not letting you go home with some stranger. Like I said, I don’t mind taking a Taxi.” Cautiously, he lifted Abigail’s chin so he could wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he promised, “and it kills me to know this isn’t the first time… I’ve been so blind to your needs.”

He dropped his hand to her shoulder, expression softening. “You should come meet Molly. Maybe if you could see the kind of woman she is, you’d understand. I think…well…I  _know_  she’d love you.” Never mind the fact that he talked about Abigail to Molly all the time.

The mention of Will’s wife made her eyes roll without her conscious control. “Yeah, because after this shit-show, it’s  _definitely_ a good idea for me to meet your wife.” Abigail met his gaze, but it pained her as his face softened. “And I’m _not_ taking your car. I already told you I’m not a little girl anymore, and I can take a Taxi by myself.”

Will sighed, sensing that this was a losing battle. “At least text me when you get home? Otherwise, I may end up on your doorstep at three in the morning, and I doubt anyone will want that.” Sheepishly, he lowered his eyes.  “Come on…I’ll at least walk you up front.”

“Sure,” Abigail said flatly, and watched as Will went up to pay for their dinner. She should have felt badly that he covered the whole tab, but honestly, she just wanted to go home.

After paying for the meal, Will slid his hand to the small of Abigail’s back and led her toward the parking lot, his face pale and drawn as he guiltily moved alongside her. “Despite my bumbling insistence on talking about…about  _this,_  I truly did enjoy catching up. I’m glad to see you’ve been taking care of yourself.” He squeezed her arm. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Abigail wasn’t sure why, but she allowed Will to guide her out with his hand on her back. He told her he was happy she was taking care of herself, and Abigail resisted telling him how untrue she felt that was. 

“Thanks for dinner,” she muttered instead. “I’ll call a cab when I see you get out of here safe. I don’t need another stray in my apartment.” She tried to smile, to make it seem more like a joke than a brush off, but she wasn’t sure if it worked. “See you tomorrow, Will.”

His mouth twitched into the attempts of a smile, but it fell short as he looked into her eyes. Will knew Abigail was angry with him. Anyone with a scrap of intelligence could see her disdain, and he was sorry for shattering their amiable start. Love – if it truly  _was_  love that she felt – was a complicating factor. And despite the fact he didn’t believe she  _did_  love him (after all, how  _could_  she?), he knew better than to lecture her on why her emotions weren’t genuine.

“Of course,” he murmured. “Maybe we could do this again sometime.” At this point, it was very doubtful, and he’d said it more out of politeness than anticipation of acceptance. “There’s no need to wait. Like you said, I’ve sobered up by this point.”

Abigail just nodded stiffly, not trusting herself to speak. Then Will kissed her forehead and she tensed, unable to relax even as she watched him drive away. Every muscle in her back was beginning to ache, and she decided to walk home. It wasn’t that far from there, anyway (a fact she didn’t feel necessary to share with Will), and the last thing she wanted was to sit in a cab with a stranger while she fought tears.

After a solid half-hour, Abigail closed the door of her apartment, hung up her coat, and tossed her keys onto the coffee table in her living room. She lasted barely another minute before she collapsed onto the floor in front of her sofa. She buried her face in her hands and wept, the shaking starting up once again. After what felt like forever, a soft meow sounded in her ear and Abigail looked over to see Chablis sitting next to her shoulder. 

The grumpy cat crouched down and licked at her tears, making her giggle. “Thanks, Chablis,” she said softly, reaching over to pet him. He purred before swatting aggressively at her hand. “Hey, I’m suffering over here. Don’t be mean.” 

The cat meowed again, and Abigail got to her feet and went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, Hannibal and company finally make an appearance. So in other words, things are about to get more tense and volatile since Will will (naturally) be up in arms about having to confront his past. Not to mention, his overprotectiveness will kick in because of Abigail's involvement, and we ALL know how much Abby loves THAT. *sarcasm* ;)
> 
> P.S. Their kiss took place some time in between them getting off the awkward plane ride (in 1x12), and their confrontation in GJH's cabin.


	3. Reuniting with Lecter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Abigail are forced to confront Dr. Lecter, as well as their own inner demons.

The new day brought a dull, throbbing headache. After arriving at the hotel, Will had immersed himself in more alcohol. Typically, he was quite good at holding his liquor, so the hangover that greeted him that morning came as somewhat of a surprise.

With a pair of sunglasses masking his bloodshot eyes, Will grimaced as he made his way toward the lab. Apparently, the fingerprints analysis was back and confirming what he already knew: the killer had touched Mrs. Leeds, but his identification was not in their database. 

“Rough night?” Beverly asked, not looking up from her microscope. “I can smell the stink on you from over here.”

“Not now,” Will warned, relieved to find that they were the only two present. “I never wanted to come back…I’m sure you know that.”

“It was never stated outright, but everyone could guess,” she agreed. “I’m assuming you got Jack’s voicemail?”

“Loud and clear,” Will muttered. “I suppose it’s back to the drawing board, as they say.”

The double doors opened then, and when his eyes locked with Abigail’s, he immediately looked away. Jack and Zeller were close behind.

“Today is the Leeds’ funeral,” Jack announced, “so we are no longer able to use their bodies as evidence. The next of kin have requested that their remains not be disturbed. As you can imagine, that significantly limits our options.”

Will remained silent, but he could feel everyone staring at him. “What?”

“Dr. Lecter…”

 _“No,”_  he cut in, now rising to his full height, “absolutely not. We can do this  _without_  Lecter’s mind, because I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.”

Abigail tried to form her own arguments, but Jack intervened. “You don’t seem to be in a stable frame of mind,” he said.

“Was I  _ever?”_ Will viciously bit back. Now gesturing to Abigail, he seethed, “She’s been through enough – we  _all_  have – so we don’t need to openly invite that monster back into our lives!”

Admittedly, that rubbed Abigail the wrong way, and the next thing she knew, she was yelling just as viciously. “I’m not a fucking child, Will! Christ! Get off your horse and stop playing the knight-in-shining-armor!” She turned to Jack, still just as furious. “You send  _him_ in to see Hannibal, and you’ve accepted that our killer will get away. I’ll go. The worst thing he can do to me is kill me for real.”

Abigail glared, daring Jack to oppose her, and felt her hands begin to shake. It was far too early and she was way too tired for any of this.

With the growling force behind her words, Will stepped back, both stunned and yearning to fight back just as viciously. But he didn’t. He would spare her the third degree when so many others were present.

“What makes you so certain that Lecter will talk to you?” Jack wanted to know. “You may have been a protégé of sorts, but Will is-”

“Are you actually  _considering_  this?” Will gruffly cut in. “I don’t care  _how_  much experience she’s gleaned from school. Abigail Hobbs is as much of a victim as I was, if not  _far worse,_  and you  _know_ it would be detrimental to have any of us in the same room together!”

“Yes,” Jack coolly agreed, “but you two are also the only ones he’s expressed an interest in beyond the mundane and predictable. If we were to send in Katz or Price, he would lead them astray.”

Will scoffed. “In case you’re forgetting, he’s played every one of us at some point! Having a history doesn’t make him any more loyal!”

“I  _know_ him, Jack,” Abigail said, “and he knows I’m not so easily manipulated.” She fired a glare at Will and laughed coolly. “At least Hannibal never abandoned me.”

Abigail’s snipe cut him to the quick. Jaw clenched, Will’s first instinct was to hurt – to  _maim_  – but he quickly reeled it in, not truly wanting to remind her that Hannibal had tried to  _kill_ her.

“Look, clearly something has happened here,” Jack crisply began, “and quite frankly, I don’t give a damn about your little tiffs. What  _does_  matter is there’s a killer out there who  _will_  kill again, and we need information as soon as possible. If Abigail can get us a lead, then we need to take that chance.”

“Then let me come with her.”

 _“No,_ Will, I need you here.”

“Sending her in there on her own could damage her psychologically! I-”

“Will,” Beverly cut in, gently laying a hand on his arm. When she caught his gaze she shook her head, indicating that he should back down.

Will was livid. “I can’t believe this,” he seethed. “You all drag me out here like a dog, and then you tell me I can’t help the  _one_  person I almost lost? The  _one_  person who could always…?!” Choking on the words, he tensed his fists and heaved a breath.

“Will, it’s Abigail’s decision.” Jack looked to the younger woman, expression solemn. “I’ll give you a pass to the BSHCI for all afternoon, if you’re willing.”

Jack and Will continued to snap at each other and Abigail felt like they had forgotten she was standing right there. She wasn’t a child. Alana was her off-the-books psychiatrist anyway, and Abigail wasn’t afraid of the big doors that separated herself from Hannibal Lecter.

Eventually, Abigail had had enough. “You’re going off as if Alana won’t be in control of the whole thing. I walk by that room every damn week knowing  _full well_ what’s behind it.” She turned to Will. “Do you? After nearly three fucking years, could you even bear being that close without your other friend, Jack Daniels?”

“Shut up,” Will seethed. “Just…shut  _up,_ Abigail. You don’t know anything about what I’ve endured, because you  _weren’t there.”_  

 _“Both_  of you shut up,” Jack snapped. “I told you to leave your drama at the curb, and I meant it!  _Real lives_  are at stake here, which is why yet again, I’m telling you that  _only Abigail_  will be in that cell block. If it works out, we’ll let her go again.” Will moved to interject, but Jack held up a hand. “I’m not finished,” he admonished. “If for whatever reason Abigail can’t get us what we need, we’ll send you in her place at another date. In the meantime, you can be waiting in the wings – _away_ from her potential progress.”

Abigail’s eyes narrowed before she rolled them. “You want him to come with me? Fine. But I’m running lead. If  _anyone_ has a problem with this, then I want a different case.” With that, Abigail turned on her heel and walked down the hall back towards the parking lot. The fresh air helped her come to her senses, and she breathed deeply in attempts to calm herself down. She wanted to scream, to kick something. Instead, Abigail settled for crouching on the ground and leaning against her car with her eyes closed to focus her thoughts.

She was going to see Hannibal for the first time in  _years_ , even though she had walked past him every Friday at six since he was placed there.

She needed to focus. Abigail wouldn’t let herself be weak around him. Not this time.

Before long, Beverly appeared at her side. “Hey there, sport,” she greeted. “You alright?” Sometimes it felt as if she was the sole mediator of the group, but in this case she didn’t mind. She rather liked Abigail. 

“Don’t listen to Will,” she added, now moving to lean against the car on the girl’s other side. “He’s just worried for you, which unfortunately, can make him sound like a  _real_  ass.” Beverly flashed Abigail a grin. “You have me though, okay? I won’t let him constantly chime in like you’re a child. Though in Will’s defense, he’s not completely wrong…it  _is_  a pretty bad idea to talk with your former captor. It may bring you a sense of closure, but it also might open up all kinds of wounds you’d thought had healed. Are you ready for that?”

Abigail sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “I think so… Besides, he’s never going to talk to me again. Will, I mean.” She kept her gaze straight ahead, glaring into the empty space. “He’s never going to stop seeing me as a child.”

“You don’t know that,” Beverly said. “It’s true that Graham clearly has his opinions when it comes to you, and those  _are_  going to be difficult to shake, but you also have to understand that he’s nearly lost you.  _Twice._  That in itself is going to make him extra difficult to lighten up, ‘cause he’s terrified of losing you for good. I’m not defending him, by the way – I  _know_  Graham can be a total ass – but it also doesn’t hurt to try and understand where he’s coming from. That might help you two meet somewhere in the middle.”

Abigail had pulled herself together enough to stand up and cross her arms over her chest. “You know, I told everyone my dad never hurt me. But that was all bullshit so you guys would leave me alone. He threatened me every step of the way. With Hannibal…” Abigail’s voice trailed off and her brow furrowed as she tried to find the words. “When I was with Hannibal I was scared, but he never made a move to hurt me. I was  _aware_  of what was going to happen until that night. I know he was a monster, but he was kind…” _Up until he wasn’t._

She looked over to Beverly as she finished, eyes wide. Abigail was furious with Will, with how he treated her already, but that didn’t mean she didn’t need him. There was no way she would let him near Dr. Lecter, if she had any say about it, but she needed to have Will close by. There was no way Abigail could admit that now. 

Beverly had listened in respectful silence. “You can never predict a monster,” she softly said. “Psychopaths, as you know, have a shallow relationship with those around them, and view them more as amusements…as  _playthings._  Lecter is bound to get bored if his curiosities are not met. With Will, it seems more complicated. It must be intoxicating for them both to have someone around who can understand the way their minds work. No one else can do that for them.”

Abigail winced. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Do you think Will will actually listen to Jack this time? Like, do you think he’ll actually stay here?”

Beverly nodded. “He’ll listen if he has any respect for you,” she cautiously agreed, “but I can’t promise you he’ll stay here. He gave off the impression that he’d be close by, just in case anything went south. You okay with that?”

“I’ll be fine, Bev. Really. I’ll especially be  _more_ fine if people would just let me do my job instead of walking on eggshells. It doesn’t help anything.” Abigail sighed. “I’m not gonna say that Hannibal loved me, because he was only using me to get to Will, but maybe he’ll try that again and things can…” She trailed off, keeping herself from saying what she was thinking. That things would go  _back to normal_. 

“Never mind.” Abigail shook her head. “I should go... Better to rip the bandaid off fast, right?”

–

“I’m going home.”

“Will, you’re being childish…”

“She doesn’t want me here, so I see no point in staying,” he snapped back, now viciously threading his arms through his coat sleeves. “If she wants to throw her life away out of some sort of  _pride,_  that’s no longer my problem.”

Jack remained solemn, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling before he exhaled. “Abigail Hobbs graduated at the top of her class, Will. If she doesn’t know what she’s dealing with, you’re implying that-”

“I’m  _implying_  that she has unfinished business with Lecter, and is allowing that to blind her. And if you’re going to be complicit in feeding her delusions, I refuse to take any part in that.”

“So that’s it, then? You’re just going to go?”

“I am. I’ve been jerked around enough for one day, so if you don’t mind, I intend to work alone for the remainder of this case.” Will moved out into the hallway, spotting Beverly and Abigail approaching near the end. His eyes were cold and hollow as he moved past, not even acknowledging them as he headed for the parking lot.

Beverly grimaced as he stormed by. “Well…I guess you have your answer there, Abigail. Doesn’t look like he’ll be staying.”

“Go easy on the mini-bar if you aren’t going to follow me to Baltimore,” Abigail called across the parking lot. There was enough sarcasm in her voice to show she was mad, but not too much to remove all concern.

Abigail didn’t  _like_ fighting with Will, especially since they had only just reunited, but there was no other way she could think to convince him to stop treating her like a child. Part of her wished Zeller would stop trying to be conservative and just ask her out for a drink already. Maybe then Will would get the message.

Abigail’s barb did not go unnoticed. Will ignored her, his mouth in a thin, sullen line as he headed straight for his car. If she wanted to act like a child, that was  _not_  his problem. And despite the slight thread of concern in her voice, he only found himself able to focus on the biting sarcasm.

After all this time, she hated him.  _Still_  hated him, perhaps. They had never truly been able to meet in the middle, so their relationship had mostly been skewed projection. To Beverly, he called over, “I’ve got my case file at the hotel. For the duration of the day, I’ll be poring over it and seeing if there’s anything we’ve missed. In the meantime, if any sort of lead pops up, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Beverly nodded, not addressing how he’d purposely avoided looking or speaking to Abigail. Men could be such babies. After he’d gotten into his car and driven off, a long, weary sigh heaved in her chest. “You ready to head over? Now that  _he’s_  out of our way, this should go fairly smoothly. Dr. Bloom won’t let him get too close, ‘cause she’ll be listening. If she feels like you’re in any danger, she’ll pull you out.”

“Told you he wouldn’t talk to me,” Abigail said with a roll of her eyes. “Alana’s always had my back.” She turned to Beverly, but didn’t meet her face. “If  _you’re_ coming with me, I’d appreciate it if you stayed with Alana. I should do this on my own. Either it’ll work or it won’t, so we’ll see.” 

Abigail got into her car, waited to see if Beverly was coming with her, and then drove off.

–

Will sat on his bed, rubbing his whiskered jaw as he listened to the ringing on the other line. Molly’s chipper voice cut through the silence and he couldn’t help but grin, already warmed by her tone. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “but I had to hear your voice. It’s been…really hard.”

“Same here, hotshot,” she agreed. “It’s just not the same without you here. We actually have leftovers now that you’re not around to shovel everything down.”

Will chuckled. “Just what are you implying? You should be  _honored_  I’m so fond of your food.”

“Honored and sick of going to the grocery store,” Molly teased, smiling as she fiddled with the leg of her jeans. “So how’s the Hobbs girl? Abigail? I’m assuming you’ve reunited by now?”

Will sighed, nodding as he ran a hand down his face. “Yeah…that’s part of why this has been so difficult.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too…” Rolling over onto his side, he pleaded, “Let’s talk about something else, if you don’t mind…how are your parents?”

“You’ve never cared one lick about my parents.”

He laughed. “Indulge me.”

As Molly began to regale him with the goings-on of the past couple days, Will once more found his mind wandering off toward Abigail, wondering if she was safe with that  _monster_  prying at her subconscious.

–

At the BSHCI, Abigail took a deep breath before walking up the stairs. It was a quick walk down the hall to Alana’s office, but as she and Beverly moved, they passed the corridor that led to Hannibal’s cell and she felt her heart begin to race. He was  _right there_. Hannibal Lecter was _right_ fucking there.

“Think Alana will give me the same lecture Jack did?” It more thinking out loud than actually asking a question. Alana and Margot had told her about what really happened that night on the Verger property, and Abigail hoped that their shared murder of Mason would place Alana more in her favor than Jack’s. 

“Pride is a hard pill to swallow,” Beverly muttered. She noted Abigail’s testy tone, but didn’t acknowledge it. “I didn’t intend to speak with Lecter,” she assured her. “Jack accepted that you volunteered, so I’ll just be there as a means of extra support. I feel like Will only acquiesced because he knows Alana and I will both be here.”

As they approached Dr. Bloom’s office, they found her standing in the entryway, head canted as she watched the two women approach.

“Dr. Lecter has just finished up his lunch for the day, so he should be ready for your visit.” Her expression remained pinched and unforgiving. “Not that he has any choice in the matter.” Her chilled blue eyes scanned over Beverly, then rested with a hint of regret on Abigail before she motioned them inside. “I ask that you remove all weaponry upon entry, and that you are, under absolutely  _no circumstances,_  allowed to physically engage with Lecter. He may ask for something – he may ask to  _take_  your case files – but I implore you, do not allow him to do so. If you need to hand him a file, put it in the drop box on the side of his cell. That way, he can’t get to you.”

Beverly glanced toward Abigail. “What about mind games?”

“With Lecter, those are inevitable,” Alana crisply said. “The moment I feel that Abigail is in any sort of danger, I’ll come in and end the session. I will always have guards on standby.”

Beverly appeared appeased, but hung back as Alana swiped her card to allow them entry into the cell block. “This is where I stay put, I’m afraid,” she told Abigail. “Hang in there – just remember, he’s an  _expert_  in manipulation, and he  _will_  be trying to play with your mind. Don’t listen.”

Holding the door open for Abigail, Alana led the younger woman down the corridor before stopping at the very end. Only a door separated them from Lecter at this point. “If you have any questions or concerns, now would be the time to address them,” she advised.

Abigail took a deep breath. “I’ve got this,” she said. “He played me before. I know the tricks.” She offered a small smile to Alana, hoping it would put  _both_ of them at ease. 

With a tight little nod, Bloom motioned her forward and buzzed her through.

Abigail pulled her hair into a ponytail, hoping the visibility of her scars would show she was proud and unafraid of her past. Now moving into the large, almost _obscenely_ ornate cell block, she took a few extra steps before stopping in front of Lecter’s cell. 

Hannibal stood just beyond the glass with his eyes closed, and his face unreadably blank. “Abigail. What a surprise.”

_Of course he would know it was her._

“I wish I could say the same,” she said, her voice coming out shakier than she had wanted.

A serpentine smile flitted across his lips, and Hannibal opened his eyes. “I must be honest with you, Abigail: when I was told visitors would be coming, I was not expecting to see you.”

“Yeah, well…” Abigail hesitated a moment, not wanting to mention Will. “Are you up to date with your news?”

“You wish to pick my brain for opinions on your latest serial killer. Surely as the daughter of the Shrike, you must be more than in tune with his tactics.”

Abigail winced, but recovered herself quickly. “Funny you should bring up my dad, rather than those months I spent with you. Shrike by birth. Ripper by training.”

Hannibal smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he exhaled a breath of laughter. “Clever girl.”

“Not clever enough, apparently. Hannibal, I need your help. This killer’s M.O.is unreadable. He’s sexual by nature, but goes after entire families rather than singling out lonely women off the street like serial rapists.”

Hannibal was quiet as he watched her, stepping forward only once. “You look tired, Abigail.” He inhaled deeply and smiled. “Does that have something to do with Will Graham’s return to the field?”

Abigail’s face dropped. She should have known that no matter what she said, he would know. Hannibal  _always_ knew.

Hannibal canted his head, honing in on the way Abigail reacted – or in this case,  _didn’t_  react. “Will has always put your needs ahead of his own. Could it be that now that he has a family – a  _one_   _true purpose_  – he no longer needs you to fill the hole in his heart?”

He smiled, his eyes glinting like maroon sparks within the dim hospital lighting. “Why have you come to me, Abigail? Far be it for me to be presumptuous, but I would think that together, you and Will could come up with an answer all on your own. Not that I am disinterested.” He strode toward the glass then, hands clasped behind his back. “May I see the file?” 

He already knew the answer. Alana Bloom forbade direct contact, so Abigail would be hesitant. Tapping his fingers along the drop box, he instructed, “You may deposit the files here, if you feel so inclined. I shall wait ‘til you’ve withdrawn before fetching them.” He smiled again, predatory in all his caged glory. “I always knew that one day, you would amount to greatness, Abigail. The same blood runs through your veins and mine. Our kind is never satisfied with the mundane and predictable – you sought the FBI to be near what you claim to have run away from.”

Abigail reached up to toy with her collarbone, a habit for when she was trying to fight down her nerves. Hannibal’s words stung, no matter how true they were. She wondered what he would say if Will had actually joined her… Would Graham be this anxious? 

“It’s funny how calmly you discuss Will’s life, considering there was little you wanted more than to have the perfect little ‘family’ with him. With  _us_.” Abigail paused. “Are those the thoughts that keep you entertained in here? Or do you suffer, bored to tears by the countless doctors and journalists that want to speak to you?”

Hannibal appeared amused, though there was a slight twitch at the hollow of his cheek. “Will did not wish to accept what I was offering. That will forever be  _his_  loss and not my own, especially now that I see life has not served him well. Will has a wife – a stepson – but there is still an emptiness that only we know how to fill. He will always have to live with the realization that, had he chosen the two of us, things would have worked out in his favor. Your presence has surely reminded him of this.” Hannibal chose to ignore her other barbs, his hands remaining clasped disarmingly behind his back.

From under her arm, Abigail walked forward towards the glass, head held high as she refused to break eye contact. She shoved the files – probably more aggressively than was necessary – into the drop box and retreated back towards her previous spot. She knew better than to have her back to Hannibal. Even if he  _was_ behind glass.

“I can leave you with the file if necessary,” she said. “Even you would be hard pressed to injure someone with what you have there.”

Hannibal tilted his head, watching as she began to retreat. “Leaving so soon, Abigail? You never struck me as the type to abandon a task – surely you wish to stay? It would be somewhat  _rude_  of you to disband without a proper farewell.”

Abigail watched as Hannibal’s eyes flicked down to the files in his hand and he smirked, just slightly enough for Abigail to notice, but probably wouldn’t show up on the security footage. She remained quiet as he did so, waiting for him to provide his thoughts.

When it became clear that Abigail was intent on not answering him, Hannibal decided to feed her a line. “Your killer is curious,” he said at last. “I do not think he enjoys being referred to as ‘The Tooth Fairy.’ The femininity of the title upsets him.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Hannibal clicked his tongue at her. “Abigail, has the FBI taken away your manners? Does all that I’ve done for you mean nothing? Or have you simply forgotten my sacrifice?”

Abigail fought off the impulse to furrow her brow as she spoke. “I haven’t forgotten, Hannibal. It’s Will who’s forgotten.”

Abigail’s tone was guarded, and Hannibal eyed her levelly. “No,” he disagreed, “Will has not forgotten. He is not the type who can let go. He is carrying the burden – the burden of the  _both_  of us – on top of his shoulders. Will believes he can withstand the pressure, but he will soon enough face the inevitable: he was meant for far more than the life he wishes to hide behind.”

–

Alana, meanwhile, listened in on the conversation from her office, Beverly sitting on the desk as they both watched the security feed.

“I don’t like this,” Alana said. “What on earth was Jack thinking, sending her in here?”

Beverly shrugged. “Abigail insisted. I think she’s protecting Will.”

“Will can handle himself. He knows who Hannibal is. Abigail has never truly known herself and  _this_ …” Alana waved a hand at the screen, “ _This_ is one of the variations we  _don’t_ want to be running around with FBI credentials.”

“But you’re the one who vouched for her.”

“I know I did. I believe that in the right environment, Abigail has all the potential to be an excellent agent. She knows how to read people like only the best profilers can. So much of her is so much like Will. But _also_ like Will, with her raw personality in the wrong hands, she can be easily manipulated.”

“Jack likes to push certain agents to their limit,” Beverly agreed, “though perhaps ‘like’ isn’t the best word. He just does whatever he thinks will get us ahead.” She leaned against the desk, watching the security footage with deepening concern. “I can’t tell if Abigail’s playing him, or if she genuinely believes what she’s saying. If it’s the latter, we’re throwing a wrench into our progress.”

Her hip buzzed and Beverly looked down, frowning when she realized it was an incoming call from Will. “Jesus,” she swore. “I really wish they’d stop making me their middle man.” With a frown, she turned the cell on speaker phone, then said, “Hey, Graham, what’s up? I’m here with Dr. Bloom. Abigail’s speaking with Lecter currently, so if you could call back and -”

“Get her out of there.”

“You’re not at liberty to-”

“Get her  _out_  of there, Katz. You know what he’s capable of. You  _know_  Abigail’s state whenever she was first rescued, so please –  _please_  use a sound judgment call and put a stop to this. I’ll be around later on to interview him myself.”

Beverly spared Alana a disbelieving look. “We can’t let you do that, Graham. Without Jack’s approval, y-”

“To hell with Jack’s approval! Abigail is one of the few people I care about, and I  _know_  what both she and Lecter are capable of, so you have to understand how suggestible she is. This will  _not_  end well. For any of us.”

Will hung up, and Beverly rubbed the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Well, Bloom? What should we do? It sounds like Graham’s stopping by whether or not we agree. If push comes to shove, we might have to put up a blockade.” Even though her comment had been made in jest, there was no mistaking the grave sincerity in her eyes.

“We can’t have Will barge in on her,” Alana agreed. “Keep an eye on that. I can trust you to pull her out if things go south. I’ll wait for Will out front and try to, at the very least, calm him down.”

Beverly nodded and took over the desk chair as Alana made her way out front.

“One more thing,” Alana called from the doorway. “There’s a silent alarm under the desk. If Lecter gets out of hand, press it and the orderlies will help sedate him.”

–  

It took Will about twenty minutes to reach the BSHCI facility. By this point, he had calmed down considerably, and only wore his trademark scowl as he stormed up the steps to the main entrance. Beverly was there waiting for him.

“I hope you haven’t been dispatched to change my mind,” he muttered. “I don’t care what anyone says – Abigail is  _not_  qualified to be in there with a man of Lecter’s manipulative expertise. He wormed his way into her thoughts before, and he can do so again. She’s predisposed to suggestion.” Though God only knows why she never took  _his_  suggestions.

“You can’t just barge in on them,” Beverly argued. “I’m not trying to keep you out here, per se, but you  _know_  that could be just as detrimental.”

“Not in Lecter’s case. He won’t clam up on my account – in fact, he’ll  _relish_  in my being there. You know that as well as I do.”

Rolling her lips inward, Beverly took a step back and allowed Will to pass. “Jack is going to shit a brick…”

“Only if you tell him,” Will fired back. “In case you’re all forgetting, I’m accustomed to going head-to-head with Dr. Lecter. I know his patterns and his deceptions.”

“So does Abigail,” Beverly said. “She lived with him for three months.”

“That does  _not_  make her qualified. He’s been manipulating her from the start. Her  _father_  manipulated her as well, so Lecter viewed her as the perfect test subject.”

By this point, Beverly chose not to remark on Will’s hypocrisy. She showed him into Alana’s office with a grimace. “The gang’s all here,” she muttered.

“Please don’t talk me out of this,” Will pleaded. “I trust your judgment, Alana, so I know you won’t let me stay if things get out of hand. Regardless of what Abigail is garnering in this moment, it can’t be disputed that I’m more equipped for this task. This is her first time doing any fieldwork.” 

Alana frowned at Will. “She’s worked cases before, Will. Abigail isn’t a child anymore and she knows what she’s doing. I doubt any of us know what actually happened during her time with Hannibal, other than the fact she survived in one piece. We can’t underestimate her.”

“I never said she was a child,” Will snapped. “I am fully aware of her experience – I’m capable of reading files too, Alana – but again, that doesn’t  _prepare_  someone for confronting their demons. This is just  _asking_  for a relapse, and I’m stunned that I have to even explain this to either of you!”

Alana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not going to stop you from doing your job, Will, but remember this: Abigail Hobbs is the agent. _You’re_ the consultant. I’m sure you know where he’s being held.”

Will nodded once to her, and then toward Beverly. “I’ll only be a moment,” he assured them. “I intend to only be in there long enough to grab Abigail and get her out. She’s already been in there for far too long.”

Without another word, Will departed and headed for the cell block.

–

Hannibal canted his head, now placing the file back into the drop box. “You enjoy control, Abigail. You thrive on the  _power_  of being on the delivering end of someone else’s fate. It is why you are standing here right now before me. You  _like_  being in charge of my situation, seeing how you have never had the upper hand until now.” His smile grew serpentine. “Even so, it would seem you only have the advantage via  _circumstance_  opposed to true merit.” 

“I like being in charge of  _my_ situation, Hannibal,” Abigail shot back, indignation in the glint of her eyes. “For years my father was in control, and then Jack Crawford was, and then you were. I have my freedom now. And I got where I am because I fought for it.”

Abigail felt strange, talking like this. The atmosphere felt as if they were back in Hannibal’s office when he would test her skills, ever so reminiscent of when her father’s corpse sat before her. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the thought as Hannibal went on. 

“Do you miss Will, Abigail?” The question felt like another test and Abigail wasn’t sure if she was up to answering.

 _“Do_  you?” Hannibal fired back. “If you were truly in control, you would not feel the need to tell me so. It would be  _apparent_  without mention. But very well, Abigail, I shall humor your whims.” He began to walk the expanse of his cell, slow and at his leisure. “Why did you take over his interview? I have a feeling Will was up for the task, and yet you intervened – am I allowed to inquire as to  _why?”_  His eyes were wolfish beneath the dim lights. “Has our Will begun to lose his way? Do you  _fear_  for his sanity?”

Those were the words that hung in the air when Will entered the room, his spine stiffening merely from hearing the voice – that awful,  _dreaded voice_  – and his hands tightened into fists. 

“Abigail,” he beckoned to her. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

Hannibal’s head turned in his direction. He had smelled Will’s arrival before physically hearing him, and his smile grew cruelly wide. “Hello, Will,” he greeted. “It is good of you to finally join us.”

Will ignored him. Not even sparing him a glance, he cut across the room and placed a hand on Abigail’s shoulder. “You’ve left him the files, so we can come back for them later. He’ll need time to peruse.”

“I can make the analysis with you both present,” Hannibal spoke.

Eyes wild and manic, Will yet again attempted to get Abigail to accompany him. “Let’s go,” he pleaded. “We’ve all got what we needed.” He began to subtly shake.

Abigail struggled for more words, more answers to questions she didn’t even want to think about.  _Was_ she afraid for Will? What exactly was she trying to do by keeping him away from Hannibal? To keep him sane? To keep him safe? 

_To keep him to herself._

That was the real answer that wasn’t going to come out, and Abigail was almost relieved when Will kept pleading with her. _Almost._

“Will, you shouldn’t be here,” she hissed, shrugging off the hand on her shoulder. “Not to mention, I didn’t think we were on speaking terms.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “Had a tiff, did we?”

“Irrelevant,” Abigail said, refusing to look either of them in the eye. “Hannibal, if you’d go on with your opinions of the case files, we can call it a day.”

“I should think sorting out the tension would make for a better atmosphere. Such aggression can distract from the details most important to your analysis of our new friend. What do you think, Will?”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t,” he warned, in sync with Abigail’s own call for an end to the matter. “This doesn’t concern  _you.”_

“On the contrary,” Hannibal denied. “Seeing how you are both bickering, and in my midst, no less, it seems that it most certainly  _does_  concern me.”

Will breathed a dry, unfeeling laugh. “You think you know everything there is to know about us, don’t you? That you’re in  _control_  of every little thing we do?” Gesturing sharply to Abigail, he seethed,  _“This_  is proof that your little fantasy never could have worked. She’s too stubborn – she’s too  _strong_  for your influence – and there’s only so much bullshit I can take before everything goes south.”

“And yet here you are, swooping in to rescue her,” Hannibal pointed out. “How entirely  _undermining_  to your defense.”

Will flinched, his temper visibly flaring. “I don’t have to talk to you,” he snapped. “Just inform Alana of your findings, and she’ll send word in the morning.”

“Do you really think you have  _time_  to waste?” Hannibal provoked, gesturing to the case file. “This killer is in sync with the lunar cycles. You have what, perhaps a  _week_  before the next murder? It would be in your best interest to work together.”

“It would  _not,_  because this wasn’t my idea,” Will spat. “I’m fully capable of handling this on my own.”

“Even after so long? You’re bound to be out of practice.”

Again, Will’s hands curled at his sides. “Leave us a moment, Abigail,” he whispered, his tone grave and severe. It was almost  _eerie_  how calm he seemed in that moment. 

Hannibal still appeared amused, poking and prodding at Will like a cat with a wounded bird. Then Will got quiet and it shocked Abigail more than if he had yelled at her.

“Will, I-”

“Abigail,” Hannibal cut in, still not breaking eye contact with Will, “do as he asks. Ten minutes should do, and then we can properly say farewell.”

Abigail hesitated, but nodded and left the room, feeling overly anxious. Waiting for her in the hallway was Alana and Abigail immediately went to her and hugged her.

“Abigail, what’s going on in there?” she demanded, hugging Abigail with maternal concern.

Abigail could only shake her head. She knew she should be focusing on the case, but there was something different in the air. Like Hannibal had left another mark on her.

With Abigail no longer in the room, Hannibal’s sense of power shifted into the familiar form that was always present with Will: an omnipotent being pulling at everyone’s strings. He regarded Will in silence for several moments, then offered him a cold smile. “You look well, Will. Is that the hint of a tan I see?”

Hannibal’s compliment struck a chord in him, and Will huffed. “If I look well, it’s because I’ve been away from  _you,”_  he seethed. “Don’t pretend as though we’re old friends, Hannibal. We’re not. There’s nothing I’d like more than to see you pumped with a lethal injection.”

The doctor’s smile was indulgent. “Then why come here of your own accord?”

“You  _know_  why,” Will deflected. “In many ways, Abigail is all I have left of the man I used to be. But now it’s clear that in the little time she’s spent with you, you’ve already poisoned her mind. She’ll never care for me the way I care for her.”

“And this upsets you?”

“Cut the shit.” Pointing fiercely to the files, he warned, “If you don’t give me something substantial in  _thirty seconds,_  I’m leaving and never coming back. I’ll make sure that Abigail doesn’t return, either. In fact, I’ll make sure that you’re kept in solitary  _without visitors_  for the rest of your rotten, miserable life.”

Hannibal let out a breath that was just shy of being a sigh of exasperation. “As I previously mentioned, Will, your killer acts in time with the moon. It is not unlike those under the delusion that they suffer from lycanthropy. I do not believe he thinks himself a werewolf, but more of someone haunted by past demons. Not unlike yourself, Will.”

Will’s jaw tensed. “If you’re trying to imply that I’m like this killer, I’m just going to stop you right there. This isn’t about me anymore – our sessions are about this  _murderer_  – so I’d appreciate it if you could stop with the analyses.”

A small smirk threatened to spread across Hannibal’s lips, and he continued with a different topic. “Now if I may speak without threats, it is worth making clear that Abigail is quite taken with you. She does all she can to keep you out of my reach, fearing I would further poison your mind. The problem lies in that you refuse to acknowledge her affections. Why, Will? If she is truly the one thing you have left?” 

Turning away from the other man, Will tucked his hands into his pockets and let out a long, even sigh. “My feelings for Abigail are  _no_  concern of yours. I thought I told you to stop worrying about my headspace and to concentrate on our perpetrator.”

Hannibal moved back toward the table in his cell, leaning casually against it. “You say I have corrupted her in only a few minutes, when she has done it to herself. The harder you push on a fragile thing like Abigail Hobbs, the easier it is for her to break. The Abigail you saw in here is not the same you claim to care for. Perhaps  _that_ is why you insist on distancing yourself.”

Turning back around now, Will’s eyes grew glassy and he shook his head. “No,” he softly argued, “she  _is_  the same Abigail, and no matter what she does – no matter what she  _becomes_ – I’m not going to turn my back on her. If I distance myself, it’s to protect her.”

The door ripped open then and Will jerked, startled as Abigail came cutting across the floor. His cheek twitched. “Have we gotten a lead?”

“We’re leaving,” she coolly announced.

Will blinked in surprise, then gratefully nodded, sparing Hannibal a cold look before muttering, “We’ll reconvene at a later date.”

Following Abigail back into the main commons, he ignored Alana’s questions and headed straight for the door. “I’m going back to the hotel,” he muttered. It was code for “I’m going to get trashed,” but he wasn’t in any mood to explain his vices to his former friend and would-be lover. 

Once outside, he sensed Abigail close by, but didn’t raise his head. “Did you mean what you said in there?” he bitterly asked. “Do you hate me  _that_  much? And all because I chose a life without that monster?” He swallowed back bile. “I didn’t choose a life without  _you,_  Abigail – I  _wanted_  to keep in touch, but you wouldn’t let me. So don’t blame  _me_  for staying away when being close to you is all I ever wanted.”

As Will fired off his accusing questions, Abigail had no chance to interrupt. And then he blamed her for their distance and she couldn’t take it anymore. She slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

“Screw you, Will Graham!” she spat. “You left without saying goodbye the second you were released from the hospital. In all these years, I didn’t know where to find you because the moment you left Wolf Trap, I couldn’t reach you. No one could!”

The slap was startling, but not nearly as painful as the words that came tumbling after. Her accusations had the effect of a battering ram. “I gave Alana my address!” Will seethed. “I told her to  _give it to you,_  so it’s not  _my_  fault if she didn’t! I assumed you weren’t interested in keeping in touch, so I left! There was nothing here for me anymore!”

Abigail’s eyes began to burn with tears and she slapped him again. “You pulled me away from a life with my dad. You pulled me away from a life with you… And then you  _left_.”

Eyes stinging, Will began to shake with mounting fury. “You would have  _died_  if I hadn’t shot your father,” he growled. “You would have  _died_  if I’d left you with Hannibal! If you want to be with that monster, then go ahead! Visiting hours should be easy to glean, seeing how you have everyone in this damned department fooled!” He watched her retreating back as she stormed toward her car. “Go ahead and leave!” he shouted after her. “I’m clearly not your ideal form of company – I don’t  _smother you_  in mind games or  _rob you_  of your control – so why would you ever want to be around me, right? Heaven forbid someone might actually want to give you back your life without any goddamn strings attached!” Furiously, Will began to unlock his car door. “This isn’t working out, Abigail. Coming here was a mistake. I’m clearly much better at shaking Hannibal’s influence than you are, and I’m not  _about_  to take ten steps back just to help when you clearly  _don’t_  want to be saved. You’re on your own.”

Abigail turned around again, livid and desperately wanting to slap Will again. How  _dare_ he accuse her of such things? “What life was there to give back?! Before getting into the academy, do you have any idea how long I spent locked in rooms with Alana or other court mandated doctors to prove I wasn’t a killer? I’m lucky I’m not in the basement  _here,_  for Christ’s sake!  _Years_ of my life were dedicated to learning how to bait murder victims and manipulate people like you, so when it was gone there was  _nothing_ left of me. Don’t you pretend to know how hard I’ve worked for the little I have!”

“Well, at least you’re finally admitting you manipulated me,” Will grumbled. Hands still shaking, he moved to open the door just as Abigail came over and shoved him against the car. His shoulder clipped the glass and he staggered, his keys hurtling to the asphalt as she pushed him yet again. Catching her striking hands, Will wrenched her around so that they were nose to nose. Hot breath coming out in snarling puffs against her face, he growled, “You’re so much more than your father – you’re so much more than  _Hannibal_  – but you never bother shaking yourself free of their influence. I think you  _like_  being controlled. If you actually had your freedom, you wouldn’t know what the hell to do with it.”

Abigail’s eyes welled up with tears. “Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t have played along with Hannibal’s games in order to get where you needed to be! If given the chance, would you seriously have run away with us? Or were you just trying to lock him away?”

Shaking himself free of her grasp, Will clenched his jaw and backed away from her. “Stop it. Playing the game is  _not_  the same as outright enjoying it. I  _had_  to play into his manipulations if I wanted to win – if I wanted to get out  _alive_  – and I barely managed to do that.” His chin quivered. “What fucking  _difference_  does it make, anyway? What’s done is done, and there’s no going back to that night. And to be frank, I don’t  _want_  to revisit ‘the could have beens,’ because they’re all as pointless as this goddamn conversation.”

Abigail, unfortunately, wasn’t willing to let it go. “Tell me why you  _really_ came back, Will. I can see it in your eyes that your thoughts are as far away from this case as possible.”

Again, Will attempted to get into his vehicle, but her words stopped him cold. “What do you expect me to say, Abigail?” he crisply asked. “If you know me as well as you claim, you should also be aware that I have somewhat of a conscience. I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed more families to be massacred. Molly didn’t want me coming, but ultimately caved because she  _knew_  it was what was best for me. Not in the literal sense, but because I’d forever harbor the guilt.” He scoffed. “If you’re trying to imply I came back for the two of you, you’re wrong. I didn’t even  _know_  you were working here until the day I arrived, and I’ve avoided Hannibal for the past five years. I had every intention of keeping that up until Jack’s brilliant strategy plan.”

Abigail balled her hands into fists. “I never thought you would come back for  _him_ , but yeah, maybe I did think you’d come back for me.” She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. “Go home, Will. More people are going to die if  _this_ keeps up.”

She felt her eyes begin to tear up again but she fought them back, glaring at the asphalt of the parking lot. She blinked and shook her head again. “Just…try not to drink and drive.”

Abigail’s defensive tone made Will swallow reflexively. There had been a time when perhaps he’d indulged himself in a fantasy here and there. When he took his daily walk in the woods, he could still remember the way Abigail had looked before she’d kissed him, small and unsure of herself and frightened, and how her coat had smelled of pine and earthy undertones. The pressure of her lips had been just as soft and uncertain as she was, and sometimes – only  _sometimes_  – he would try and remember just how she’d felt pressed against him in his car. Never mind the fact that before he’d met Molly, he would dream of slipping a hand between Abigail’s legs and coaxing small, pleased little hiccups of breath from her lips.

Guiltily, Will looked away. “I already  _told_  you how your absence affected me. Since I have to keep reiterating it, I’m not sure what else you’re expecting to learn.” Nodding sharply at her words, he agreed, “I think it would be best if I consult from my hotel room opposed to coming in to the morgue. If there’s a body that needs my perusal, you can just upload the files and send them to my phone.”

Slipping into his car, he scowled at her. “I only drink in my hotel room, Abigail. I may be a worthless piece of shit, but I don’t intend to drag others down with me.” He started up the car with shaking fingers. “Don’t call me,” he pleaded. “Don’t text me, don’t visit me, don’t do  _anything_  outside of professional bounds. Today has proven that I can’t handle being around you.” 

Abigail nodded at Will’s demands as he got into his car. There was no use in fighting anymore. It was a lose-lose battle that neither of them could understand. 

She didn’t want to say goodbye, so she didn’t. Crossing her arms over her chest, she took a step back and waited to see if Will would drive away first. Abigail had already turned her back on him so many times in less than 24 hours that she couldn’t bring herself to turn it again. If this was really the end, he was going to have to be the one to leave.

Will’s brow turned into a solemn pinch. This all stung worse than a rankling sore. He could never admit to himself that he loved Abigail, because then he would never be able to let her go. And he needed to – if not for his sake, then for hers.

Shifting the gear into reverse, Will paused a moment before looking over at Abigail’s rigid form. “For what it’s worth,” he softly said, “knowing and caring for you gave me a sense of purpose all these years. I wasn’t lying when I said you were important to me.” Looking away, he rolled up his window before he could allow himself to spill just exactly what was on his mind. And as he left her behind, he found himself unable to look in the rearview mirror, because he  _knew_  his resolve would weaken, and he would return for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pic credit: http://musicboxmemories.tumblr.com/post/168169376977/shadows-of-yesteryear-ch-3-hannibal-tv
> 
> I always wanted TV!Will to be more open with his anger, like book!Will, which is why I kind of write him as a mix in this. He's extremely hurt and confused and frustrated, hence him lashing out at pretty much everyone. On that note, this is probably the most volatile/dramatic RP I've written for this fandom.


	4. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail attempts to make Will jealous.

“Do you mind explaining to me why the hell Will isn’t here today?”

Beverly glanced toward Abigail, then pursed her mouth as she offered, “They had a fight. Yesterday, he came into the BSHCI despite your orders.”

Jack’s mouth twitched. He couldn’t say he was the slightest bit surprised. “And?”

 _“And_ they left without any major leads. All we have is the perp works based on the lunar cycle.”

Cutting his eyes toward Abigail, Jack demanded, “And did Will say anything to you? Because he sure as hell didn’t reach out to  _me.”_

“It doesn’t matter,” Zeller irritably piped in. “We’ve solved cases without Will before, and we can do so again.”

“I’d be far more inclined to agree if you four would actually start getting me some  _results,”_  Jack spat.

Abigail frowned. “I was doing just fine on my own, and then Will stormed in and Hannibal wouldn’t talk about the case outside of the lunar cycle. I  _told_ you it was a bad idea for Will to be near him again. It derails everything.”

Zeller nodded. “She’s right, Jack. Sure, Will got us results, but he’s definitely underqualified to help with this. Especially if you want advice from Hannibal the Cannibal.”

Abigail spared him a cold look before facing the front again. “Will won’t work with me. Yell at me until you’re red in the face, Jack, but this just isn’t happening. We tried and it didn’t work. So I guess it’s him or me.”

Abigail knew how stupid it was to give up after all the hard work she’d put into getting to be a part of  _this_ team in  _this_ lab, but the last two days had done nothing but hinder the investigation, and she needed to do what was best for the safety of future victims.

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously calling it quits,” Price protested. “You of all people should be the best when it comes down to target selection… No offense, of course.”

Abigail shrugged. “I don’t know about Will, but I would need another look at the houses to put together a better picture.” She turned to Jack. “So? What’s it gonna be?”

* * *

 

After the explosive tiff between Abigail and himself, Will had gone to the only place he felt relatively safe: Molly’s hotel room. In order to be closer, she’d moved up closer to Quantico in case Will needed to see a friendly face. And he needed one now.

The moment she opened the door, she blanched in surprise. “Will! You didn’t tell me you were c-”

He cut her off, pulling her in for a fierce, needy kiss that had her clawing feebly at his shoulders. With his fingers aggressively tugging at her hair, he angled in and drank of her with a desperation he would not admit to himself – or more specifically,  _why_  he needed the sudden intimacy.

Barely giving Molly the proper time to react, Will staggered with her inside and kicked the door closed.

* * *

 

“Guess I should thank Jack,” Molly teased, stretching alongside Will as she smirked up at him. “All the tension from the job’s certainly given us a payoff.”

Guiltily, Will looked up toward the ceiling. “Yeah… No complaints on my end.” A barely noticeable quiver formed in his chin, and his eyes closed as he tried to shut out the mental image of dark hair and bright, expressive blue eyes.

That was when his phone rang.

With a grunt, Will begrudgingly sat up. Molly sighed as she cast a hand over her eyes. “Do you  _have_  to answer that?”

“You know I do.”

Not bothering to swipe his boxers from off the floor, Will grabbed his phone from his pants’ pocket and strode into the bathroom, desiring more privacy since Molly was unaware of his departure from the Bureau. For now.

“Hello?”

He paused a moment, realizing that the silence seemed to stem from tension opposed to pending rage. His stance grew rigid. “Abigail, is that you?” He lowered his voice, suddenly feeling hopelessly exposed. And in a sense he was, both figuratively and literally. “Abigail, if Jack’s asked you to speak to me, there’s no point… I’m halfway home already.” It was a lie, but one he was certain Molly would be willing to support.

Abigail panicked the moment she heard Will’s voice, and all she wanted to say slipped from her mind. Jack had lost it on her and left it to the two of them to figure out who would remain on the case. Zeller had offered to step in, but Abigail knew it was up to her and Will to figure it out.

“Well then, I guess that answers that,” she finally managed to choke out. “I told Jack it was you or me working on this case. Zeller jumped a foot in the air while Jack lost his mind.” A forced chuckle passed her lips and Abigail wanted to slam her head into the wall. Why was this so  _fucking_ _uncomfortable?_

Raking a hand through her hair, Abigail sighed. “Do whatever the hell you want, Will, but Jack would kill me if I didn’t call. He’s pissed enough as it is that we blew the interview with Hannibal.”

Subconsciously gripping at the sink, Will released a breath before briefly closing his eyes. “Abigail, I would never take your job,” he assured her. “You need this – hell, you  _want_  this – much more than I do, so it’s yours.”

Talking to her while naked made him feel oddly uncomfortable, so he grabbed a towel and draped it around his waist. “The interview wasn’t my fault,” he added. “Somehow, this was probably all part of Hannibal’s master plan. Getting us to turn on each other and  _need_  him is all he could ever want. He did it before, after all…because he knew that if we had each other, we would no longer need him. We could’ve _healed.”_

On the trashy motel bed, Molly rolled onto her side and faced the closed door of the bathroom. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but the hushed tone of Will’s voice sounded tense. Molly wasn’t going to complain about being ravished by her husband, but it was rather out of character for him. She knew he would be different when working with the FBI than when he was working on boats, but this was certainly not what she had expected.

“Will? Is everything okay?”

Molly’s voice called out to him then, hesitant and anxious, and Will mentally kicked himself for having been such an ass. He had no right to use the woman he loved in this way. 

“It’s okay, babe, it’s just a call from work,” he called back to her. “I’ll be out in a little while.”

Now lowering his voice again, Will said, “I meant it earlier when I told you I was finished with Hannibal. I can’t go back, Abigail…you know what that could mean for me. I can’t risk that sort of downward spiral anymore – not when I have Molly and Walter.” He rubbed his forehead. “I hate to abandon you, but you clearly were more interested in handling this on your own anyway.”

Abigail didn’t know how to respond. “Don’t blame him for everything, Will,” she finally said. “We were at each other’s throats before seeing him again. Metaphorically, that is.” Abigail paused, contemplating Will’s word choice. “We  _don’t_  have each other. You made that more than clear. Hannibal has no reason to try and incite more of a rift.”

Deep down, Abigail wanted to ask Will to come with her to the Jacobi house to look things over once more. She wanted him to come with her and see just how skilled she really was in her job instead of having him look at her like she was 18 again. This felt like he was just rolling over. Instead, she just sighed.

“Fine.” She didn’t have anything else to say. “Tell Winston I miss him.”

Will had had just about enough. “Right. Hannibal’s just an all-around saint,” he spat, tired of Abigail’s support. “Maybe I’d be more willing to work with you if I sensed an aversion – if I sensed you didn’t  _trust_  Hannibal – but I don’t get that impression at all. You’re lucky I’m not reporting you to Jack.”

“Screw you, Will!” 

“Well you’re getting what you want, aren’t you? I won’t be there to mess things up, and you’ll also be treated with respect. I know you think I handle you with kid gloves, and you’re right – I can’t help but feel responsible for you – and maybe in a way, I always will. But by cutting ties, you can at least prove yourself in the way you were meant to. Just…don’t make me be sorry for that decision.”

Abigail hung up on him and Will sighed, momentarily pressing the phone to his forehead. Molly’s voice beckoned to him then and he called back, “I don’t plan on going back in for a while, so they’re scrambling for a replacement.”

Molly frowned. “You’d better not be. This is a vacation for me, and I won’t have those goons ruining my time with my husband. Now get your ass back out here before I take away that phone.”

Drearily exiting the bathroom, Will held his towel up with one hand while tossing his phone onto the dresser with the other. In spite of himself, a slight smile tugged at his lips. “You really consider this cheap motel a vacation spot? Surely, I need to make it up to you…maybe a nice dinner at a well-renowned restaurant that’s far,  _far_  away from Freddie Lounds and unsolved homicides?”

“The farther we are away from dead things, the better,” Molly agreed. “Unless, you know, we’re eating them.”

Returning over to Molly’s side, Will’s smile gradually faded as he had a seat alongside her. “It’s Abigail… Dr. Lecter’s influence on her seems to be worse than I’d feared. I don’t think she’s ready to be in the field, but I also don’t feel right reporting her in case she  _is_  ready. I’ve been wrong about her before…namely because I didn’t want to be right.” He sighed. “I just hope I’m doing the right thing.”

Molly moved to cuddle against his side, rubbing a hand over his back. He felt tense beneath her palm and her brow furrowed with concern. “You didn’t think  _you_ were ready to be put in the field, right? Yet you put away what, over a dozen different killers? This girl may have been put through hell, Will, but the fact that she’s still standing has to count for something.”

Molly hoped what she was saying was the right idea. This whole FBI thing really wasn’t her area of expertise. 

Will leaned into Molly’s warmth, nuzzling into her shoulder. “Yeah, he agreed, “I guess you’re right… Though I can’t help but set different standards for her. A few years ago, she was like a daughter to me, and it’s just… _difficult_  seeing her in this position. I know what it did to my head, and I  _also_  know how convincing Lecter can be. It just seems like a recipe for disaster.”

With a feeble smile, he kissed Molly’s forehead. “But enough about work. Why don’t you get dressed, and then I can take you out for some dinner? You’re guaranteed to be the prettiest woman there…but that just might be because a lot of the people in this area don’t have any teeth.” Chuckling, he gave her another quick kiss before heading over to the dresser. A night without stress – or more specifically,  _Abigail_  – on his mind would probably do him wonders.

* * *

 

“Lover’s quarrel?”

“Piss off, Z.”

“What’s up? Graham gonna bother gracing us with his presence?”

“Nothing.” Abigail sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “And no… He’s not. The job’s mine. I’m going to head over to the Jacobi’s and take another look around. Mind passing on the message to Jack? I  _really_ don’t feel like having him snap at me again.”

Zeller nodded, “Sure,  _but_ …”

“But what?”

“Quid pro quo, kiddo. Let’s get a drink when you’re done. You look like you could use one.”

Abigail hesitated, but then shrugged. “Deal.”

* * *

 

“If you’re heading out for the evening, make sure you report to Jack if you find anything at the Jacobi’s,” Beverly said, yawning as she slipped into her coat. “I guess you’re going over there with Z? He mentioned accompanying you to the crime scene.”

“Z’s covering that part in exchange for grabbing a drink. If it was any other day I’d do it myself, but like I told him, I’d much prefer it if Jack  _didn’t_ tear my head off again.”

Now shutting her locker, Beverly had to roll her eyes. “I’m beginning to think Z’s as intrusive as Graham. If you need an excuse for me to swing by and ‘rescue’ you, just give me a buzz.”

Abigail laughed. “Come on, he’s not  _that_ bad. Subtlety may not be his strong suit, but it’s not like Zeller’s a total creep. Honestly, I’m more worried about Jimmy getting jealous.” 

Abigail turned to leave but paused on her way out. “I’ll text you if he proves to be a problem. Promise.”

* * *

 

Snooping through the Jacobi’s things had proved to be a smart idea. Between the two of them, they discovered that the dog was missing and had found recently developed home movies on 35mm film. Looking over the Leeds’ case file, Zeller noticed the second family’s cat was missing, and crime scene photos showed an old-style film projector in the den. 

 _That_ was a new lead. 

Zeller said they could tell Jack in the morning, and get right down to looking into companies that still developed film in a private and public nature. With talk of a celebratory drink, the two of them headed across town to a restaurant nice enough to be date-worthy, but not too fancy.

“Here’s to a new lead,” Zeller said as he raised his pint in a toast.

“To new leads and no drama,” Abigail countered, returning the toast with a pint of her own. 

They clinked their glasses together and laughed.

* * *

 

Unfortunately, fate was not meant to be on Will’s side that evening. As soon as he and Molly entered the restaurant and headed over to a table, he caught sight of Abigail and Zeller laughing at the bar, both holding a glass as they whispered almost conspiratorially. Unbidden, a tightness formed in Will’s chest. 

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “It seems that work won’t leave me in peace…” Gesturing toward the bar, he assured Molly, “We can go somewhere else, if you’d like. If they see us, we may never hear the end of it.” Curling his hand into a fist, Will quickly tucked it into his pocket in an attempt at regaining his composure.

“What?” Molly asked, but then she saw where Will had indicated. “Oh.”

The girl sitting with who Molly could only assume was another agent was pretty.  _Very_ pretty, and had similar features to herself. It was foolish, but Molly couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy in her chest. She shook the thought free and smiled at her husband, clinging tighter to his arm. “It’s fine. Let’s sit down. It’s not every day you get to show off your hot wife to your co-workers.”

Will chuckled, though the timbre was a bit strained. “Can’t argue with you there,” he agreed, stooping enough to kiss her forehead. “I’ve got the best-looking date in the room. Far be it for me to waste an opportunity such as that.”

She winked up at him as they moved over to their table, and she sat across from him.

Abigail got the feeling she was being watched and subtly looked up across the restaurant. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, triggering Zeller to turn around.

“So much for a night free of Jack’s prized hunting dog,” he replied. “Nice girl on his arm, though.”

“Nice to see you’re keeping it classy, Z.” Abigail sighed and threw back the rest of her beer. “I’m gonna need something a little harder if Mister and Missus Graham are in our company.”

“We can leave, you know.”

“Trying to get me back to your car so soon? Wow. Don’t make me get out the mace just yet.”

“Smartass,” Zeller said, half-wounded as he rolled his eyes. His smile was proof that she hadn’t entirely discouraged him, though. “What do you think women see in a freak like that?”

“Honestly?” Abigail asked, taking a scotch on the rocks from the bartender. “He’s kinda cute in that damaged, kicked-puppy way. Smart. Something dangerous about him, too. Quite the turn-on.”

Zeller groaned again and Abigail laughed.

* * *

 

After they had been approached by the waiter, Will and Molly both ordered some drinks (alcohol, naturally), and Will reclined somewhat in his seat. From his vantage point, he had a bird’s-eye view of Abigail and Zeller. With a sigh, he tried to preoccupy himself with his menu. He could hear Abigail laughing, and the hollow of his cheek twitched. Lovely. Did that mean she was actually  _taken in_  by Zeller’s doggish ways?

“So far, so good,” he informed Molly. “About the job, I mean. Jack hasn’t called me, and nobody else has bothered horning in with their opinions. It looks like things are going to return to the way they were.” Glancing at Abigail a moment, he added, “I may stay in the area though, just to keep a look-out in case something goes south with my ward. I know she technically shouldn’t be my responsibility anymore, but if Walter was on the field, you’d want to stay close by, wouldn’t you?” Again, he glanced at Abigail, attempting to read her face for just  _how much_  she was enjoying what appeared to be her date.

* * *

 

“So what do you think the connection with the film is?” Zeller asked, wanting the conversation to move away from his least favorite person in the world.

Abigail shrugged, but thought it over. “Perhaps it has something to do with vulnerability and the performance of the crime. I mean, our guy saves the wife for last, and sets up the rest to watch. He needs an audience, which almost detracts from the idea that he’s impotent, but since they’re all dead it also adds to it.”

Abigail’s thoughts on the crime were in tune, but most of her brain was still distracted by the idea of Will sitting with his pretty, perfect little wife on the other side of the restaurant. She sipped the scotch and embraced how it burned her throat. It reminded her of Will. The taste of it had lingered on her lips that time she had kissed him…

“Drunk already, Hobbs?” Zeller teased and at her confusion, he poked her cheek. “Your face is all red.”

Thankful that the drink in her hand was an excuse for her blush, Abigail smiled at Brian as she swatted his hand away. “I skipped lunch today. Sue me.” Now the scotch really was going to her head. “What do you think  _normal_ women see in, Will? Like, he’s  _way_ too damaged to be capable of that domestic bullshit, right?”

Zeller smiled as Abigail went off, chuckling to himself. “Easy, tiger. Remember he’s sitting right over there.”

“Screw that. You know he’s probably fuming that we’re here.” Abigail shimmied her bar stool a little closer and dropped her voice. “What’s the one thing that would piss him off more than anything?”

Zeller breathed a laugh, trying to discern through his own tipsy haze if Abigail was serious or not. When he confirmed that it was the former, he threw back the rest of his drink before turning toward the minx-like smile on Abigail’s lips.

Scooching closer still, Abigail giggled as Zeller put an arm around the back of her chair. He smelled like too much cologne, but she honestly didn’t care. The petulant teenager she never got to be hoped that Will was watching.

“This is fun.” She smiled. “I’m actually having fun.”

“Good.” Brian grinned back. “It’s nice to see you smiling. And, you know, not in the lab.”

“Beverly tried to warn me about you.”

“Oh, really? Why?”

“Said you might try something.” There was a sly glimmer in Abigail’s eyes that made Zeller smile wider as he brushed back her hair.

“Like what?”

“Like this,” Abigail breathed in his ear, before leaning over to kiss him.

* * *

 

Molly sipped at her drink. “What’s she like? You mention Abigail a lot, but you never really talk  _about_ her.” It wasn’t fair to be fishing like this, and Molly kicked herself for acting like a teenager, but when her husband looked as distracted as he did now, she couldn’t help it.

Will was taken somewhat off-guard, but he offered his wife a smile before sipping his own drink. “I was hoping you two could meet and hit it off at some point, but Abigail’s too busy with her first  _real_  case for socializing,” he said. “And by ‘real,’ I mean it looks like she’ll be heading the department in my stead.” He glanced at the floor before clearing his throat. “Abigail, uh…she’s really  _something,_  I’ll give her that much. Lots of drive, ambition, and sass to boot. It was difficult trying to earn her trust. In a way, I doubt I ever truly did since…well…I  _am_  the direct cause of her not having a father. I wanted to be what she needed, but in the end, I didn’t realize until it was too late that what she needed was a friend. Lecter got to her before I could truly help.”

Clearing his throat, Will leaned back in his seat. “I’m assuming you know all about her history? Smart, manipulative, serial killer for a father…it’s all on TattleCrime.com. Something in her has changed ever since living in Lecter’s basement, and it terrifies me to realize that I can’t tell whether or not it’s a change for the better.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “You being hard for your ex-psychiatrist is _also_ on TattleCrime, so I try to stay away from all of that.” She pondered Will’s words. “What happens if he got to her? Think she’ll try and bust him out?”

This fishing had taken the conversation in a strange direction, but now she was genuinely interested in the hypothetical outcome. 

Rolling his eyes at Molly’s observation, Will grudgingly agreed, “Yes, Lounds enjoys painting quite a  _colorful_ picture, but most of what she spins are half-truths. The majority of what she recorded on Abigail, however, is actually true. I believe she cared for her in some sort of way. We all did.”

Paling at Molly’s question, Will shrugged and reached for his drink with an unsteady hand. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I have no idea what sort of bullshit he spoon-fed her over that course of three months, but I’m also  _more_  than aware of Hannibal’s influence. He had me going there for a while too, if you’ll recall.”

Glancing in Abigail’s direction, Will choked on his drink and immediately lowered the glass. He hadn’t realized she’d gotten so  _close_  to Zeller, and the close proximity of their bodies made his face heat as he ducked his eyes.  _Don’t even look at them. She’s none of your goddamn concern, Graham._

“I want to believe she’ll be okay, but…I don’t know if I trust her,” Will finally managed to rasp.

Molly’s brow furrowed as Will choked around his drink. “Slow down, hotshot. You okay?”

She reached across the table and took one of Will’s hands. Maybe they should have gone somewhere else. Something was clearly bothering her husband, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with the canoodling agents at the bar.

Will flashed Molly a weak smile and gave an uneasy chuckle, now setting down his drink as he attempted to calm his breathing. “Yeah, uh…I’m okay,” he assured her. “I just feel a little over-heated, that’s all. Talking about Hannibal tends to raise all my defenses, both physical and mental.”

Rising from the table, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I think I’m going to get some air. I’ll only be a moment, alright?” Pressing another kiss to her cheek, he fully rose before striding toward the back of the building. He could see Abigail and Zeller in the corner of his eye, and amidst his tense agitation, his shoulder clipped a waiter as he came through. In an instant, glassware hurtled to the floor and exploded around their feet, the waiter now apologizing profusely as he dropped down in order to pick up the broken glass.

Will ignored him. Locking eyes with Abigail, his expression grew cold and guarded before he made a show of storming toward the exit. He didn’t know what the hell she was trying to prove, but if she wanted Zeller? Fine. Not his concern. He was  _goddamn tired_  of trying to protect her from what would inevitably end up being hurtful, so why should he keep putting himself on the line? Least especially when she’d more or less declared her disdain.

Bursting through the double doors, Will stepped out into the alleyway and welcomed the evening chill. His breath appeared in silvery puffs, and he folded his arms as he strode further along toward the dumpsters. A part of him hoped Abigail would join him. He wanted to yell at her – to  _denounce_  everything she was doing – but the other part of him knew it wouldn’t be wise. When it came to Abigail Hobbs, his judgment was never sound.

* * *

 

Kissing Zeller was sloppy, and Abigail wasn’t sure if it was just because they were drunk, or if he was a bad kisser. On the flip side, his hand was soft as it cupped her cheek. The two of them jumped and parted at the sound of breaking glass as their attention was drawn to Will and the waiter on the ground. 

Abigail met his eyes, full of rage and resentment, and continued to watch him as he disappeared through the entrance. Her mind rejoiced that she had succeeded in getting to him, but her heart tugged inwardly with regret at hurting him. 

Downing the remainder of her drink, Abigail excused herself, saying she needed to go to the bathroom. The moment Zeller turned his gaze from her, Abigail ducked into the kitchen and out the back door.

Abigail followed the wall of the restaurant around the side into an alleyway. At the other end, she saw Will leaning against the dumpster and approached. She remained several feet away and copied his position on the opposite wall. Abigail didn’t want him to run, so instead she fluctuated between looking at her shoes and looking to the sky. 

“The moon will be full in a little under two weeks,” she said. “I think I like the crescent moon best.”

Will heard Abigail before he saw her. Shoulders hunching in on themselves, he turned away and glanced down at his shoes. “I thought we’d already established I wouldn’t be helping,” he softly said. “My being there will only slow things down. Or at least, it will whenever you’re involved.” With a sigh, he rubbed at his forehead. “I wish you would just say outright what it is that you want…this whole song and dance is becoming exhausting, Abigail.”

“I don’t know what I want to say, Will,” Abigail admitted. Her mind had been cloudy since Will showed up, but with a body full of liquor, it wasn’t any easier to distinguish. A breathy chuckle escaped from her lips. “I’ve had too much to drink.” She brought her eyes up to Will, and it hurt to see him just as unraveled as she had felt when they fought.

Idly tucking his hands into his pockets, Will swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re doing – I don’t know what  _I’m_ doing, quite frankly – but that felt like you were putting on a show in there. Far be it for me to tell you what to do, but don’t use people just to prove a point. Believe me, you’ve made your intentions loud and clear. You want to hurt me…and I understand.” A bitter laugh caught in his throat.  _“God,_  do I ever understand. I wish I was a better person, but I’m not. I wish I could be what you need, but I  _can’t.”_

“Zeller can deal with it.” Abigail shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know if we can, though…”

The pain in his voice was killing her. The self-loathing, the anger for her actions, the bitterness…all of it hurt when it hit Abigail’s ears. “Why are you still here, Will? Why not just take your kid and your pretty wife home to where we aren’t killing ourselves over whatever the hell it is that we’re doing?” 

Releasing a breath, Will raked a hand through his hair and swallowed low in his throat. “I guess I’m just afraid you might lose your way… I’m not trying to be insulting, or even condescending, but you  _know_  how I feel about this Hannibal business. I told you you were on your own, but it’s never as simple as all that. I can’t turn my back on you in good conscience.”

Abigail laughed sarcastically. “Will, after everything, do you really think I’m going to lose my path?  _Honestly_? I was very much alive and in hiding for three months. I wasn’t held hostage. Hannibal let me come and go as I pleased so long as I wasn’t careless. I’m not a threat to the integrity of the FBI, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I don’t know,” Will said defensively, “and that’s the problem. After seeing the behavior you exhibited at the BSHCI, I don’t feel like I can trust you. It’s like you still have some sort of  _allegiance_  to that monster, even after everything he’s done to us.” With a scoff, he rolled his eyes skyward. “I don’t give a  _damn_  about the integrity of the FBI. I’ve been a threat to that for far longer than you have.”

If anything, Will felt more stung by the fact Abigail didn’t seem  _upset_  with Hannibal. It was almost as if she blamed  _him_  for everything that had happened.

“The only allegiance I have left to Hannibal is that he was a huge part of my old life,” Abigail pleaded. “That’s it. I’m good at acting, and getting Hannibal to talk to me is no different than keeping my father from killing me was.”

Abigail felt her eyes stinging, but blinked the tears away. She wouldn’t cry. Not this time. But  _Christ_ she wanted Will so badly. Screw everyone else, this is what she wanted; having Will to herself. It didn’t matter if they were fighting or working or anything else. She wanted to be greedy. 

“Why do we keep doing this to ourselves? It’s always about what we  _can’t_ do and never about what we  _want_ to do. Or even if it is, the ‘can’t’s’ stop us from doing anything about it. Like every time we get close to figuring it out, something gets in the way.”

Abigail’s voice had grown tight, and a part of Will sensed that she was doing everything in her power to keep herself from falling apart. Hesitant, he moved away from the wall and approached her. “You’ve always been a point of uncertainty in my life,” he said. “I never knew what you wanted, or what was appropriate – nothing ever seemed to be the right move.” Halting directly in front of her, his gaze softened, but he kept his hands firmly in his pockets. He would not touch her. “Abigail, I care for you very deeply, and I know that a part of me always will. You’re always on my mind – what you’re doing, how you’re holding up, what you might be thinking – but the fact of the matter is I love my family. I  _need_  my family. Molly and Walter both ground me in ways I’ve never felt before…not even before Dr. Lecter.” Lowering his eyes, he shook his head. “I don’t know when or why you started to feel this way, but I can’t reciprocate. Not beyond what we have now.”

“And what do we even have anymore?” Abigail challenged. It was a loaded question. “You’ve been back three days, and all we’ve done is fight. It’s so exhausting to be mad at you, Will. You were the only one who ever  _really_ understood and the idea of not having you around, not being able to talk to you, is literally painful.”

Expression softening, Will wiped a hand down his face and exhaled. “I’m not  _angry_  with you, Abigail, I’m exasperated. Things were going well at first – you can’t deny that. When we had dinner together, things seemed relatively normal. I was happy for you. In a way, I’m  _still_ happy for you, but now I’m also worried.” He flexed his hands. “I’ll admit that at first, I wanted to punish you and just leave…it was clear to me that you’d made your preferred choice, and I was feeling vindictive. But now, I know I can’t just abandon you after everything that’s happened. I don’t  _want_  to be near Hannibal, but throwing you to the wolves isn’t something I could ever do.” He winced. “Having you being able to confide in me and  _want_  to confide in me is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Reaching in between them, Will took both her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Go back inside to Zeller,” he pleaded. “Finish up your drinks and go home. I can still be there for you – I  _will_  be there for you – but it can’t be in this way.” Hesitant, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is…”

Abigail cringed, blinking away her tears while her cheeks burned. Their conversations never went the way she wanted them to. Will would never be hers, and these little moments of intimacy weren’t helping how badly that hurt.

“You’re already making it impossible,” she muttered, abruptly stepping away from him. “I’m calling Bev. You’re the only one that needs to go back inside.”

Finally, Will dropped his hands back at his sides and exhaled. “Alright, fine,” he softly agreed, “I will. I’ll go back inside. Just…allow me to stay and make sure Beverly picks you up. An alleyway isn’t any place for you to stand by yourself.” Even now, when she was 22 years old, Will felt the need to protect and preserve – perhaps to the point of suffocation.

“I’m sorry,” Will said after a moment. “I’m sorry that I’ve never been in sync with what you want or what you need, and I’m  _sorry_  that I can’t even do right by you as a friend. I just…I wish I knew why you wanted me in your life. Maybe then I could understand.”

Abigail shook her head at the offer. “Neither of us will get what we want if you stay out here. Go inside, Will. Make this easier for one of us.” She began to walk towards the front of the restaurant, texting Beverly as she walked:  _Drank too much n dont trust myself does that count as needin rescue?_

“Will,” she sighed as she paused for a moment, “I’ll say this once: You were the only person to get it. That’s why I want – why I want _ed_ you – but I won’t be a homewrecker. Neither of us would let that happen, anyway. Goodnight, Will. If I stand next to you any longer, I think we both know what will happen.”

And with that, Abigail continued to walk away.

Will tensed his fists in frustration. Could she truly be this hung up about a kiss?

But when she halted and began telling him all the things he feared, Will felt the blood drain from his face and he swallowed. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” he pleaded. “I was hoping…I-I mean, I wanted you and Molly to become friendly. And then you could maybe stay with us for a few weeks? She knows I miss you…” Watching her back tense, he exhaled evenly. “You’re young, Abigail – you’re recovering. It’s unrealistic to believe you’ll never find someone who can understand you, and more importantly,  _love_  you. I’ve brought you nothing but pain. I think we can both agree on that.”

“Why?” Abigail heard the fear and in the guilt in Will’s voice and spun back around. “I had people who loved me. I had  _you_. If I hadn’t been a teenager back then – and look me in the eye when you answer – if I had been this age back then, would you still have shoved everything under the carpet? That’s all I want, Will, just give me a straight answer. That’s what I need to get the fuck on with my life, because ever since you came back, I  _feel_ like I’m 18 again.”

“You didn’t have me,” he coolly said. “I  _never_  had you. As much as I wanted to be in your life, you never allowed me the benefit of your trust.” Jaw tensing, he lowered his eyes a moment before looking back up at her again, glowering as he shook his head. “Does it truly matter?” he asked. “Would it make any  _difference_  if I told you that no, if you had been this age back then, I probably  _wouldn’t_  have pushed everything aside? The fact remains that none of the ‘what ifs?’ and ‘could have beens’ change the fact we’ll never be in a different position. I’m married, and our working together is a direct conflict of interest. If Jack had any sense at all, we wouldn’t have been put on the same team in the first place.”

Abigail’s hands balled into fists at her sides, knuckles white as her nails dug into her palms. “I’m not a killer, Will. Not anymore. I can’t live my life feeling like this, not again. So end this whole friendship schtick now and let me try and get past this, past  _you._ Let me do my  _job,_ and then we can see about being friends.”

Frustrated, Will struck his fist against the side of the dumpster. “God _dammit,_ Abigail, if we can’t be friends, what  _can_  we be? You speak of wanting me in your life, but shy away from all of my suggestions. You talk of wanting to be past this, but promptly request I return to work. If things were any different, I would probably suggest that we  _unwind_  alone somewhere, but that method is clearly out of the question, and I don’t know what else I can do to help you. I don’t want to be responsible for hurting you any longer.”

Abigail half-groaned, half-screamed into her hands. “Just do whatever the  _fuck_ you want, Will! I don’t care anymore! Go home, stay here, just do  _something_ and stop asking me to make your fucking decisions for you!”

Tears rolled down her cheeks in steady streams now, but Abigail just didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything in that moment as she felt her body slowly grow numb.

Abigail had rarely cried around him. In all their years of knowing one another, she had always worn her strength like a shield, refusing to crack under pressure and using her weaknesses as a weapon. So when she crumbled and began to openly weep, something inside Will cracked along with her.

Taking three brisk, even strides to close the gap between them, Will took Abigail by the shoulders before tucking her head beneath his chin. “Shh, please don’t,” he begged, smoothing his fingers through her hair as she wept. “I never meant for this to happen… I know I’m a goddamn coward, and I  _know_  I’m being unfair to you, but I’m also selfish, Abigail. A part of me will never want you to move on.” Resting his cheek against her crown, he rocked her in his arms as a lump formed in his throat. “You mean the world to me,” he whispered. “You have to know that.”

Abigail gave a hiccup of breath. “Both families had home videos on actual tape,” she choked out. “I’m looking into developing places in the morning. Hope that gives you something to think about while you pretend you’re better off with your perfect little picket fence family.”

Abigail’s words about the videotapes rattled around in his head, but Will refused to take the bait. Slowly withdrawing, he cupped her face in between his hands and nodded stiffly. “Okay,” he agreed, “I get the point: you don’t want to play into my delusions, and I won’t force you to comply. Since I’m clearly distressing you, tomorrow I’ll order two plane tickets and fly back to Florida. I’ll be out of your hair for good. Alright?”

“You’re the worst, Will Graham.” Abigail sobbed piteously, but that didn’t stop her from clinging to his shirt as she cried. There was nothing else she could say.

Gently, his thumb brushed the expanse of her lips. 

“Will?”

Jerking back as if he were in the wrong, he whirled around just in time to see Beverly at the edge of the alleyway. “Oh…good,” he stammered. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, “I was caught up in traffic.” To Abigail, she asked, “You ready to go?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Abigail spluttered. “Thanks, Bev.”

She began to walk away again, but turned at the last minute. “Goodbye, Will. You know where to find me if anything changes.”

Beverly looked suspicious between the two of them, but didn’t say anything as Abigail approached her.

Will tensed, his hands opening and closing out of nervous habit. What had he done? What had he  _tried_  to do? There was a fine line between comfort and genuine affection, and he feared that he had undoubtedly crossed it in that moment.

Trying his best to ignore Beverly’s scrutiny, he called back to Abigail, “Uhh, you mean about the videotapes? Yes. I’ll call you if…if I change my mind.”

_Smooth recovery._

“So does that mean we’ll see you in the office tomorrow, Graham?”

“Well…” Gaze shifting from Beverly to Abigail, and then back to Beverly again, Will gave a tight little exhale. Evidently, Jack hadn’t told the office the entire plan, which was more than likely because he was hoping it wouldn’t prove to be true. Molly would be pissed – she would be  _pissed_  – but he nodded once before agreeing, “Yeah, uh…I’ll make a brief appearance. Abigail and Zeller found a break in the case, so we can all work off that tomorrow.” Looking back to Abigail, he whispered a soft, “Goodnight,” and managed to pry himself away. As he returned to the building, the back of his neck prickled as if he were still under scrutiny.

Now back with Molly, Will squeezed her shoulder before sitting down in his seat. “Sorry for the wait,” he apologized. “I guess I needed more air than I thought I did. Hope you ordered for me?” With a tight smile, he reached across the table and touched her hand.

* * *

 

“So you gonna tell me what happened back there?” Beverly asked as she and Abigail drove away.

Abigail shook her head. “Let the dust settle, and then maybe I’ll tell you. Christ, why am I such a  _child_?”

“Because you’re still a kid, kiddo.”

Abigail sighed and closed her eyes while she leaned against the headrest of the car. She could still feel Will’s thumb against her lips, and suddenly she felt like crying again…


	5. Freddie's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU makes a plan to lure The Tooth Fairy out of hiding.

The next day, Abigail sat at her desk poring over her notes while she played the videos of the two families. Before setting up a meeting with Alana, she'd had some lab rats digitally convert the footage so she could better look at the contents without damaging the film. She managed to locate a handful of places that would be able to develop the film relatively cheaply, but she wouldn't be able to narrow down the list until she got access to the bank records, which were  _still pending approval_. Christ.

Abigail rubbed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. The families all seemed to be normal people, and the footage didn't reveal anything other than the fact they had been made either just before the murders were committed, or directly after. The chances were that their killer was the one who developed these reels.

Her door opened and Abigail nearly jumped, having been so deep in thought. "You scared me…"

Will chuckled. "Sorry. I thought I was being plenty loud in announcing my arrival, but clearly something's got your attention. Anything I should know?" Stepping around the roller chair on the other side of the desk, he moved around so that he was hovering over her shoulder.

Abigail felt her heart skip a beat when she smelled the familiar cologne on him. She almost began to tease him, but thought better of it. The difference between banter and flirting was a fine line.

"It's the footage from the Leeds and Jacobi family videos," she said. "I can't believe these are on  _film._ "

Will huffed. "Just what are you saying? I'll have you know that  _my_  generation used film. Are you trying to imply that I'm a troglodyte?" Smile gradually fading, his brow grew pinched as he studied the film over her shoulder. It felt  _odd_  being so at ease with her, given what had happened the night before, but he was in no hurry to return to their former adversity.

Abigail turned around in her chair. "I'm still waiting on the bank records to see who developed the footage," she said. "I think we'll be able to find out who this guy is if the same person developed both sets of tapes. It'll be the only connection we can find between the two sets of victims."

"Good job." Chewing his lip, Will nearly pressed Abigail's shoulder with his hand, but instead backed away to give her a considerable amount of room. "I, uh…suppose I misjudged your capabilities. Not that I didn't believe you could  _do_  it, mind you, so much as I worried that… Well, never mind."

Abigail felt proud with Will's praise. It was hard not to beam with him complimenting her hard work. "I told you so."

Chuckling at her condescending tone, he teased, "Now, now, let's not rest on our laurels just yet, shall we? This case is far from finished. Even so, uh…for now, you're doing the Bureau proud. Just don't pass my compliments along to Zeller, because his bragging is worse than yours." He hesitated a moment, then added, "I heard that Lounds will be stopping by later this afternoon for a soundbite. Are we sure it's  _wise_  to work side-by-side with that snake? She could jeopardize everything we've been working on."

Even so, a part of Will knew this was also their only hope. The next full moon was only days away.

Abigail groaned and returned her attention to her computer. "It was Jack's idea. He hopes we can harass our killer into making a mistake, which I think is just asking for disaster. We  _both_ know how well Jack's plans usually go. Speaking of which, have you seen Jack yet? I think he might actually strangle me if he sees you walking around after I told him you left…"

With a nervous chuckle, Will said, "No, uh…I actually haven't. I thought it would be best if I just popped in for about a half hour, then take off. But if Lounds is here, I feel it my duty to stick around a little longer." Naturally, that was code for he had a score to settle and didn't intend to leave. He didn't trust Lounds as far as he could throw her.

Glancing at the clock, he added, "As long as Lounds is questioned in a controlled environment, I think it will be okay. We'll just ask her for a final draft before we give her the go-ahead. Otherwise, we'll subpoena her article and prevent her from publishing."

Abigail rolled her eyes. "I was wondering what you'd have to say about the 'Murder Husbands' thing. I have to admit, I was a little jealous when I read that article." She laughed, but then stopped herself. "I mean, um…F-forget I said anything…"

Shoulders tensing, Will glowered and folded his arms. "What's there to say? Lounds writes trash, so naturally she'd come up with something just as trashy. Molly and I don't dwell on it. In fact, I didn't even bother reading the article beyond the glaring headline." His brow puckered as he processed the tail-end of Abigail's comment.  _Jealous?_  What in God's name did she have to be  _jealous_  about?

Trying to shake off her embarrassment, Abigail hastily moved on, "Me, Alana, and Jack intended to meet Freddie, but I think it might just be me and Alana since Jack is dealing with the dead cat we found. That means it'll be relatively safe for you to join us."

Clearing his throat, Will re-adjusted his tie. "Right. Well, I'll be glad to be there and lend an idea or two. Are we scheduled for this interview soon? I doubt the cat will take the analysis team terribly long."

Abigail smiled and self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ear. There was a part of her that wanted to apologize for the last few days, but she also figured that bringing it up would ruin  _this_. Abigail would  _actually_ walk into traffic if they started fighting again.

"Oh, um, yeah…" she finally said. Abigail noticed the time and closed the looping videos on her computer. "It's just in the conference room down the hall. We should probably head down there now actually. Don't want to keep anyone waiting."

"Hmph, well I don't know about  _that,"_  Will muttered, implying that there was no rush. The day he showed eagerness over meeting with Lounds would be a cold day in hell. "I haven't exactly lived up to my end of the bargain, so she's still waiting on an interview. Hopefully this will count." Sparing Abigail a cautious glance, he began following her out into the hallway. "Though I'm loath to admit it, during your disappearance and alleged death, Freddie was actually quite a bit of help. She, uh…she never stopped fighting for you. And as much as I despise her, that's one thing I'll always be grateful for. She helped in the effort to get me back to you."

Everything had horribly backfired, of course, but that wasn't the point. In many ways, he was indebted to Lounds.

This good-natured feeling vanished nearly the instant he entered the room.

Alana looked up at them, directing most of her attention to Will, while Freddie Lounds smiled smugly with her arms crossed over her breasts.

"Mr. Graham," she greeted, "it's so wonderful to see you again. Healed up nicely?"

Will stiffened. "I don't appear to be  _bleeding,_ do I?" he coolly asked. "I'm plenty healed. You, on the other hand, seem to be a bit injured from that  _fall_  you took in viewing traffic. Must be tough manning such a wallowing platform when people have  _actual news_  to read."

Alana shook her head, indicating civility, but Will never took his eyes off the redhead as he stiffly had a seat. "Let's get this over with, shall we? I have more important things to attend to." He nodded to Abigail. "Go ahead, Agent Hobbs."

It felt odd addressing her so formally, but he'd be damned if he gave Lounds something new to write about, especially in light of the last few days. Hopefully nobody of note had spotted them out in public.

Freddie smirked at Will, impervious to his bite.

Abigail cleared her throat as she sat down. "Th-thank you, Mr. Graham," she said, thinking how weird that sounded. "So as you know, Miss Lounds, we're baiting this man into striking. We'll be providing you with enough to write your article, but this is  _not_  an official statement from the FBI. Is that understood?"

"So grown up, Abigail," Freddie purred. "Are you  _sure_ this has to be all business? I'd  _love_ to pick your brain about your time trapped by the Chesapeake Ripper."

"That's enough," Will snapped, and perhaps too quickly. "From what I've gleaned, you've already been informed of the specifics, Miss Lounds, and Abigail is  _not_  part of that deal." His expression grew withering. "So much for you being in her corner. Apparently, your 'I'll never let that go' spiel only pertained to your greed."

Leaning forward, he coolly added, "You can pick  _my_  brain. Just leave Miss Hobbs out of your books, as was our agreement. Or have you forgotten?"

Abigail enjoyed Will springing to her defense, and looked down at the table to hide her smile. But rather than add fuel to the fire, she continued, "So, Dr. Bloom is here to act as our professional mediator. The most obvious thing we can tell from our preliminary profile is that the idea of being referred to as anything remotely feminine offends him, so the main focus should be continuously calling our killer the Tooth Fairy."

Returning to his original posture, Will released a breath and nodded. "Taking a shot at his manhood is definitely a way to get his attention," he agreed. "And given how you've taken several shots at  _mine,_  I doubt that should be any trouble for you, Miss Lounds."

Abigail tried not to show her discomfort and cleared her throat again. "I think it would be best if we deal with personal vendettas when families aren't in danger."

"Agent Hobbs is right," Alana said. "And Will is, too. The necrophiliac behavior in his crimes against the matriarchs of these families suggest not only misogyny, but also potential impotence."

Abigail nodded her agreement and looked to Will.

Sending another scowl in Lounds' direction, Will began to impatiently drum his fingers against the tabletop. "In order for this story to have traction, we need to have one of us directly quoted. I would naturally volunteer since I'd rather not put a target on any of you – Lounds excluded – but it will look more convincing with the head of one of our departments at the helm."

Cringing, Will amended, "That naturally doesn't mean you  _have_  to, Alana. In fact, I would recommend you ask if Jack would be willing to put his name on the dotted line. He's more than capable of handling himself."

"Well, Dr. Bloom  _did_  just call the man impotent," Freddie cheerily observed. "It sounds to me like she has somewhat of a vendetta of her own."

Will frowned. "Don't you dare portray it as such. The idea is to get his attention,  _not_  to put any one of us in danger."

"I know what I'm getting involved with, Will. I like to think I've survived worse than what we're dealing with here," Alana admonished.

Will sighed. He didn't want to negate Alana, seeing what sort of horrors she'd endured, but the fact remained that the Tooth Fairy was a misogynist with a hard-on for harming women and their families. Alana had a son and a wife – was luring a criminal out of hiding truly worth the risk?

Abigail looked between the two of them. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous about this plan, but they didn't have many options to strategically draw this guy out…

"So," Freddie said, breaking the brief silence, "feminine and impotent. What else you got for me?"

Abigail looked at her hands. "Abuse... It's likely he came from an abusive home. My best guess is, whatever female guardian he had was the cause of his pain. Since the general consensus is that he's physically deformed, I believe the target of abuse was aimed at his defections."

"Grotesque form," Alana said, pointing at Freddie's notebook. "Monstrous."

"He seeks love and adoration through these violent acts," Will lowly added. "With the glass over the eyes, he's allowing himself to be reflected in the gaze of his victims – to almost  _worship_  himself in a way he's never had outside of his kills."

"Weak," Alana supplied, tapping once more at Freddie's pad of paper. "He's monstrous, impotent, effeminate, and weak."

"I'd say that's more than enough," Will coolly agreed. "The name 'Tooth Fairy' would be enough to glean his attention as it is, if I had to guess, so there's no reason to go above and beyond in this case, Dr. Bloom."

Freddie scribbled her notes, nodding and grinning as she did so. When she looked up again, she closed her notebook and placed her bag onto the table. "I'll need photos of my dream team. What do you say?"

Alana pursed her lips and Abigail tensed, hand coming up to touch the scar at her throat. She hated press. But this was to put a stop to the slaughter. With a small nod, she stood up and that was all the answer Freddie needed. The redhead pointed over to the wall by the window, and Alana followed close behind.

Will released a tight little exhale. "I hope that doesn't include  _me,"_  he muttered. Though when he saw Abigail and Alana both moving toward the window, he felt a sliver of panic slice up his spine. "Wait," he entreated. "Is it really necessary to show their faces? Granted, we want the Tooth Fairy to come out of hiding, but this is just  _asking_  for an attack. And if we can't protect them, I-"

"We'll be  _fine,_  Will," Alana interjected.

 _"You_  might be with all your security," he crisply agreed, "but what about Abigail? She doesn't  _have_  a mansion to go home to, nor does she have guards on standby."

"We'll have the FBI keep an extra close watch."

"Not good enough."

"Will, it's fine," Abigail assured him, although it was more for his benefit than her own.

Impatient, Freddie tapped at the desk to garner everyone's attention. "Are we shooting this thing or not?"

"We are," Alana assured her, now posing alongside Abigail.

Abigail smiled awkwardly, not really knowing what to do with her face. Or with anything, really. She figured confidence would further piss off the Tooth Fairy, but she certainly wasn't feeling very confident.

Helpless, Will watched on as Freddie snapped a series of shots. Once she was satisfied, she chirped, "All done! All I have to do is upload these to Tattle Crime, and then we'll be all set."

Will raked a hand through his hair. "I can stay with one of you tonight, if…if you'd feel safer?"

Alana grabbed her purse off the desk and slung it over her shoulder. "No thank you, Will. I have my hired help for the evening."

Freddie got what she needed and left, and Alana followed soon after. Once again, Abigail was alone with Will. And once again, the air felt tense.

Pleadingly, Will turned his gaze to Abigail. He knew she would resent his asking to help, but he didn't feel right about this. "Will you consider what I offered?" he asked.

"How about we wait for this thing to actually gain traction? If you're still worried, then and  _only_  then can we discuss you staying in my apartment."

The very idea made Abigail flush and she looked to her feet. She knew – they  _both_ knew – it would be uncomfortable in a setting where their actions were completely unsupervised.

"I should… I-I should get back to analyzing the videos," she said. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Will."

Will's heart took a dive. "Okay," he lowly agreed. "I'll see you in the morning, Abigail. Stay safe."

Before he could think to further cajole her, Abigail left the room and made her way back to her office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, both Hannibal and Francis make an appearance.


	6. The Great Red Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dragon appears, and Will and Abigail are forced to acknowledge his power. Credit for manip/graphic at end: http://musicboxmemories.tumblr.com/post/168228300729/hannibal-red-dragon-au-after-the-infamous-red

Will had been interrupted by Alana's harried call. The woman could often be agitated, absolutely, but very rarely did she sound  _this_  upset.

After kissing Molly goodbye and rushing in to the BSHCI, he found himself standing with Abigail on the front steps. He wouldn't admit it, but his heart took a large lift upon seeing her. She was alright. He didn't know  _why_  he'd assumed the call had been about Abigail, but he'd lost her again and again and  _again,_  and it had gotten to the point where he was expecting the moment he would lose her forever – whether it be by his own hand or someone else's.

"I take it you got Alana's call, too?" Abigail asked. "She sounded upset." When Will nodded, she frowned and looked out over the horizon. Alana had called Abigail that evening, her voice holding more than a hint of urgency as she announced that Hannibal was up to something. She said she didn't have time to elaborate, and Abigail had instantly wondered if that meant he'd killed someone.

Alana appeared then and ushered both Abigail and Will into her office. She seemed off to Abigail, a little more frantic than what was normal with high stress.

Alana closed the double doors and frowned. "Hannibal has been using the phone to talk to his lawyer, but he's been contacting someone else," she said. "I never wanted to access the secret wire taps Chilton set up, but today is another matter. You need to listen to these."

Abigail looked between Will and Alana. "Wait a second, how can he call out?"

"He can't." Alana sighed. "The people working on the phones here aren't the brightest. It looks like our mystery caller  _said_ he was Hannibal's lawyer to get through, and was granted permission."

"I think we can just admit that it's the Tooth Fairy," Abigail said.

"That's the thing. He calls himself the Red Dragon."

"It appears our little stunt had its desired effect," Will muttered. "If he's demanding to be called 'the Red Dragon,' he clearly wasn't pleased with our chosen pseudonym. What has Hannibal said?" Expression growing pinched, he removed his glasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. "Or let me guess: he's not cooperating? He's refusing to speak? Is _that_  why we've been dispatched?" Glancing toward Abigail, he coolly added, "Given what happened the  _last_  time we interacted with Hannibal, I'm going to request that we don't have a repeat offense. If he refuses to comply, you can tell him I'll never visit to perpetuate his bullshit ever again."

Abigail felt a twinge of annoyance at Will's tone, but let it slide for the time being. Alana frowned slightly as she looked between the two of them and sighed.

"You're right. Hannibal isn't cooperating. I've taken away all of his luxuries, but that's not changing a single thing." Alana was clearly very frustrated as she spoke, crossing her arms over her chest.

The uncomfortable stiffness that followed was not just from the situation, and Will found himself keeping his head down, his chin practically tucked against his chest as he folded his arms.

"Hannibal may be a man of luxury," he finally spoke, "but removing his toilet and books isn't going to make him cave. He's been through far worse ordeals than revoked privileges. You have to cut off his supply of attention…starting with me and Abigail."

"Just listen to the tape."

Alana hit play, and the voice that rang out sent a chill down Abigail's spine. It was gravelly and monstrous, much like how the boogeyman might sound to a child. He spoke of a "great becoming," and Hannibal replied to him with an eerie calmness that Abigail very much recognized.

"Stop," she said, shaking her head to clear it. "Alana, that's enough."

Alana stopped the recording. "What's wrong, Abigail?"

"He's doing it again," she said, not looking at anyone. "He's manipulating him into killing. I take it he mentions me or Will later on?"

Alana nodded. "And me."

"See? Hannibal's mad at us for abandoning him. He plans on using the Red Dragon to make us the next targets and get his revenge." Abigail looked at Will from the corner of her eye. "Like with the whole Matthew Brown situation… Use an admirer to carry out plans he can't do himself."

Will's mouth twitched. "Hannibal and I are even with Matthew Brown." As soon as the words left his lips, he instantly regretted them, not having remembered how Alana and Abigail were both in the dark about Randall Tier. His gaze shifted toward Abigail. Or perhaps the latter already knew? He felt certain that Hannibal had shared their interactions with Abigail, if only for the sake of grooming her with his delusions.

Abigail chewed her lip. At the time, Hannibal had recounted the news rather happily when she'd asked if the horrific display had been Will's work. He had told Abigail that one day, she would make a beautiful tableau as well.

Frustrated, Will raked a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well, what are we going to do about all this?" he asked. "I'm not going to inject myself into Lecter's life again just because it's what he wants. The last time I allowed myself to get too close, I nearly lost myself. And now that I have something worth living for, I…" He trailed off, his throat nearly closing around the words. Abigail had been enough long, long ago, but she hadn't wanted him. And somehow not being needed  _stung_  him. Perhaps he related to the devil more than he wished to perceive.

Much more softly this time, Will added, "What do you need me to do?"

Alana looked between the two of them, clearly feeling out of the loop. "Well, someone needs to go talk to him. I can monitor from here."

"I went first last time," Abigail said. She was angry – that's all she needed Will to know so she could center herself again.

Tensing his fists at his side, Will released a slow, even breath in order to collect himself. Abigail seemed intent on the attack – not that he could (entirely) blame her. His jaw set and he ignored Alana's questioning gaze.

"Fine," he snapped.  _"I'll_ talk to him. And a lot of good it'll do, seeing how he managed to turn the investigation on its head the last time we attempted this false civility."

Despite his ire, there was a part of him that was genuinely grateful to Abigail not wanting to participate. The last time she had gotten herself involved, Will had lost his temper and had inadvertently thrown their progress out the window. He couldn't let that happen again.

Anxiously re-adjusting his cuff links (despite the fact they were already straight), Will looked to Alana and asked, "Anything specific I'm supposed to steer the conversation toward? Otherwise, there's an almost surefire guarantee that Hannibal will make things personal." His face grew bitter. _"Again."_

Abigail failed her attempt at not rolling her eyes. "You'rea part of the FBI, Will. You should know what to ask."

"Abigail, take a breather," Alana chided. "Not that he'll tell you directly, but see if you can get how Hannibal plans on using this Dragon. We need to know what the end game for both of them is."

Taking a seat in one of the many chairs, Abigail crossed her arms and turned up her nose.

Will bristled. But rather than take the bait, as he so clearly desired, he was sobered by Alana's remark and he, too, decided to dial back his agitation.

"Fine," he agreed. "I'll ask about the Dragon. I can't guarantee success, but we all know how Hannibal delights in dangling the bait over our proverbial jaws." Nodding to the two women, he ignored Abigail's dismissive body language and stepped out into the hallway.

Alana sighed and placed a hand on her hip.

"What?" Abigail asked, breaking the silence.

"What is the matter with you? You  _and_ Will are acting like children. Wait, no, not children. Even my three-year-old has better manners than this."

"I'm not talking about this, Alana. My problem with Will is between me and Will."

Alana sighed. "Abigail-"

She stood up sharply. "I'm going for a walk. I'll be in the parking lot if you need me."

In an angry rage, Abigail stormed out of the office and got halfway down the hall before she halted, a scream leaving her lips.

 

* * *

 

The doors opened and Hannibal took a deep breath, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Will. I didn't think I would be seeing you again after your spat with Abigail. I take it Alana has filled you in?"

The greeting made Will's shoulders tense, though his face didn't emote aside from a brief furrow between his brows. "Believe it or not, Doctor, Abigail doesn't dictate who I can and cannot see. This was  _my_  choice."

A fabrication at best – this was  _not_  Will's choice, but he'd be damned if he let Hannibal sense his discomfort. Folding his arms over his chest, his frown remained in place as he began striding toward the large pane of glass. "Alana has said plenty," he agreed, "though not much outside of your misconduct. We all know you're enjoying yourself."

Hannibal smiled, pleased in his silence.

This naturally angered Will. "What do you  _want,_  Dr. Lecter? With this Dragon? With  _me_  and Abigail? If this is all some ruse to bring us together, I can assure you that I have no intention of falling prey to your whims again. As far as I'm concerned, your spiel is nothing more than a parlor trick."

"You wound me, Will."

"Not where it isn't deserved," he bit back.

But before Hannibal could reply, Alana burst into the room in a panicked state. "It's Abigail," she told Will. "She's gone…"

"What?"

"I heard a scream, but by the time I got out into the hallway, she was nowhere to be found."

Barely able to breathe, Will dizzily spun around and stormed toward the glass. With his fist banging against the pane, he hissed, "Where is she? You  _planned_  this, you son of a bitch – I  _know_  you did!"

"Will, stop! This won't solve anything!"

"Like hell it won't – let me in there with him. I'll interrogate him in a way we'll  _both_  enjoy." His fists tensed menacingly, but Alana led him away from the glass.

"We'll have time for that later. In the meantime, we should check around the building."

Hannibal didn't even flinch when Will slammed his fists on the glass. A small smile graced his lips as he spoke. "Listen to Alana, Will. The Dragon won't dally with Abigail. Certainly not after  _that_ gripping interview."

Alana looked hastily between the two men. "Will,  _please_ …"

Will's lips pursed into a menacing line. "You forfeited the right to speak about Abigail the moment you attempted to destroy her. And if it turns out that you planned this – that you're trying to get her killed  _again_  – you'll need a lot more than this glass to keep us apart."

"This isn't helping anyone!" Alana spat. "Will, leave him – Hannibal will still be here when we get back."

Sending one last pointed glare toward Lecter, Will furiously turned and followed Alana into the hall. "Do you have a gun?" he asked her.

"I've got something better: a task force that's searching the perimeter."

"You don't actually expect me to sit back and do  _nothing,_  do you?"

Alana appeared exasperated. "Of course not, Will – it's why I'm taking you with me. While they're combing out front and along the sides, we can take the back."

Nodding, Will unholstered his weapon and pushed open the door, keeping the gun out in front of him as Alana followed closely behind. Up ahead were a line of trees that obscured the sight of anyone who might have crossed the perimeter.

"Don't," Alana hissed, seemingly reading his mind.

Ignoring her, Will clicked back the hammer of his weapon and slid through the trees, attempting to adjust his vision to the pitch black.

 

* * *

 

Abigail struggled against the aggressive grip on her arm. "Let me go!"

"Shut up," her attacker growled and Abigail's heart practically stopped.

_The Red Dragon._

He continued to drag her along behind the BSHCI. Abigail looked him over as best she could: stocking over his head to hide his face, leather gloves, a gun with a silencing barrel. This guy certainly knew what he was doing…

Once they were a considerable distance beyond the treeline, the Dragon threw Abigail to the ground, and she immediately scrambled in the dirt until her back was pressed up against the thick stump of a tree. It took everything in her to control her breathing without panting.

"What do you want with me?" she asked, voice shaking.

"Shut up," the Dragon growled again.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!" she screamed this time, praying the echo would carry her voice.

"I told you to  _shut up_ _!"_  The Dragon backhanded her so hard that Abigail saw stars.

Her body was now shaking as violently as her rapid heartbeat – Abigail was sure that this was what real fear was. She wished for a knife as her instincts kicked in, mainly in regards to what she had learned from Hannibal, as well as her father. This man was going to kill her for what she and Will had said about him.

She just had to hope that someone had heard her…

 

* * *

 

Wisely, Alana had not pursued Will beyond the treeline. He found himself racing alone through the pitch black, his heart hammering in his ears and his breath like knife points as he circled the perimeter.

"Abigail?" he entreated.

Perhaps it was unwise to make his presence known, just in case the assailant attempted anything physical, but he also didn't want to risk Abigail being taken off the grounds.

Almost as if in answer to his fears, Will heard a garbled shriek and fiercely jerked toward the sound of the noise. It had been a shrill, feminine cry –  _Abigail._

Panicked, Will increased the speed of his stride and held his gun out of in front of him, trembling despite the steadiness of his hands. "Abigail?!" His voice cut through the dark, and a startled owl vaulted up from a tree branch. Swearing under his breath, Will thankfully kept his instincts in check as he made his way through the underbrush.  _"Abigail?"_ he called again. "Abigail, if you can hear me, please call out!"

 

* * *

 

The Red Dragon pulled something from his pocket and put it in his mouth. Abigail soon realized it was the dentures that had created the distinct, yet unidentifiable bite marks on his victims. Then he was digging through the underbrush, pulling a duffle bag from its hiding spot.

With his back turned, Abigail had a chance of running, but she didn't want to risk it without knowing what was in the bag. Besides, she was too frightened to move other than pressing herself more firmly against the trunk of the tree.

But then she heard it.

 _Will,_ she thought.

"WILL!" she cried. "WILL, I'M OVER HERE!"

The Dragon turned back to her, snarling harsher than the most rabid of animals, and – finally – Abigail's fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. She scrambled and ran toward where she had heard Will's voice.

"WILL!" she cried again.

It started off muffled and indistinct – a keening cry that ripped through Will like a fillet knife – but then it grew louder and more insistent. He whirled around, startled, before realizing that Abigail had to be on the run. She was getting closer.

"I'm over here!" he shouted. Nearly tripping amidst his haste, he cupped a hand over his mouth and cried, "Come toward the sound of my voice!"

Shaking and gasping for breath, Will made his way deeper into the sparsely wooded area. There weren't too many trees to hide behind, and yet it was dark, and thus formidable in his state of half-blindness.

"Abigail?"

A knock came to the back of his skull, and Will went vaulting forward onto his knees. His gun spiraled across the grass, useless and out of reach as he attempted to sit back up. "Wha…?" A strong forearm came about his throat and  _squeezed,_  causing him to crunch up in an effort at keeping his airway open.

 

* * *

 

Will's voice in the trees was like breaking the water's surface after nearly drowning. Abigail corrected the direction she was running and raced for Will; she had managed to pass him somehow in her disorientation.

"Will, I'm coming!"

Just as Abigail rounded one of the trees at yet another call of her name, she saw Will go down, hard. His gun went flying as his body sprawled out on the ground. Abigail was frozen in fear as the Great Red Dragon held Will down, squeezing the life out of him in a chokehold.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will thought he saw a slight shape. "Abi…gail," he choked out. "The gun… Get…" He gestured fiercely with his foot, unable to properly speak as he struggled with the Dragon holding him in place.

The gun was far enough away that Abigail would need to run past the killer in order to get it, and her instincts were going wild with what to do. But then there was a moment of clarity as the right ones kicked in.

The lack of oxygen was beginning to give Will tunnel vision. He clawed at the Dragon's arm, gritting his teeth as the grip around his windpipe grew tighter. That was when Abigail made a dive for a fallen branch to her right. She raced forward, cracking it against the brunt of the Dragon's skull, and Will could feel the wallop reverberate through the man into his own bones.

The Dragon slumped against him, grunting, and loosened his hold enough to allow Will proper breathing space.

"Let him go!" Abigail shouted. "This is your chance to stop on your own. I'm not afraid to shoot!"

Both men looked up. Panicked, Will shook his head when he realized Abigail had the Dragon in her sights. Another kill, even if it was made in good conscience, could cause irreparable damage to her psyche. Hadn't she suffered enough on his behalf?

"Abigail, don't," he entreated. "Abigail, we can get him to surrender…"

Deep down, he knew the Dragon would never surrender. Or at least, not without a fight, and the way the larger man was holding tight to his throat did little to suggest otherwise.

Abigail shook her head as Will pleaded with her. This was not the time for mercy. Mercy meant that more people died.

"We can't have another Hannibal," she said, taking proper aim at the Dragon. "More people will get hurt." Glaring at the killer, she hissed,  _"Now_  who's the one in need of awe?"

 _Bang_ _!_

The shot rang out through the trees and the echo of the bang sang in time with the ringing in Abigail's ears. She slowly lowered the gun and took a shaky breath, trembling as she looked at what she had done.

**Image credit: http://musicboxmemories.tumblr.com/post/168228300729/hannibal-red-dragon-au-after-the-infamous-red**

****


	7. Blood on Her Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Abigail try to come to grips with what they've done.

The  _bang_  that followed momentarily stunned Will, and a sharp, disorienting ringing sound echoed through his skull as he looked up at Abigail. She stood there, smoking gun in hand with a look of both horror and satisfaction.

That was when the blood began to flow.

Dolarhyde slumped against him then, and Will jerked to the side, grimacing as arterial spray coated his face, neck and shoulders. The Dragon had been shot through the jugular. He gurgled, pawing feebly at his wound while Will rolled out from underneath him.

Abigail had been around violence her whole life, but the  _amount_ of blood was just too much.

She sank to her knees and dropped the gun, letting her overwhelmed mind run wild. Her breathing grew shallow and her chest felt tight as she closed her eyes. 

She had killed someone.  _Again_.

Will immediately found himself crawling toward her. “You’re okay,” he entreated, now holding out a hand to her.  _“I’m_ okay, too…I swear to you, Abigail. We’re both alright.” He took hold of her arms, giving her a gentle shake so that she was forced to return his gaze. The blood was more than likely triggering a traumatic episode, and he needed to gather all of her attention. “Your name is Abigail Hobbs – it’s 11:40 p.m. and you’re in Quantico, Virginia.”

As much as Will resented Hannibal Lecter, that had been one of the few helpful tactics he’d given him to cope. Abigail currently seemed shocked and beside herself, and he couldn’t discern if she was feeling guilt or terror – or perhaps both.

Abigail kept her eyes closed as she fought against her rolling stomach and the feeling of how heavy her chest was. She could feel herself trembling and gave it everything she could to stay in the moment instead of spiraling out of control.

She heard Will’s voice then, a reminder of where she was,  _who_ she was. But it wasn’t his words that were grounding her; it was just the sound of his voice. His hands were on her and she flinched violently. 

The harsh, shivering breaths catching in Abigail’s throat made Will feel sick. It was like no matter what he said or did, nothing could bring about her peace of mind. And how could it? Will had killed and experienced the same sharp, agonizing pain that now consumed her. He couldn’t allow her to endure what he had.

With a hiccup of breath, Abigail flinched yet again when he touched her, but this time her eyes rolled up toward his face and she gave a soft sob of recognition. Now burrowing in against his chest, she clung to him tightly as she pressed her face into his neck. Will swallowed past the lump in his throat. Wrapping his arms around her just as tightly, he nuzzled into her hair and kissed her crown. “You’re alright,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Her breathing was still shallow and Abigail brought her hands up to clutch at Will’s shirt collar. The fabric was dripping with blood and sweat, and the smell of what she had done drifted heavily into her nose. Fearfully, she drew herself against his chest and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Rubbing along her back and shoulders, Will drifted his lips down toward her forehead, now rocking her from side to side as he cradled her against him. “It’s over,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to her skin. “You’re a hero, Abigail – the Dragon can’t hurt anyone else.” His eyes stung as he held her close. “I almost lost you…”

Abigail had nothing to say as the distant sounds of Alana’s team, and probably Jack Crawford, sounded through the trees.

“Will?!”

He jerked, now looking over his shoulder. “We’re over here!” he called.

Jack Crawford and a group of armed agents came rushing over the uneven terrain. Upon spotting the cooling body of the Dragon, they went about checking for vital signs.

“Are either of you hurt?” Jack asked.

Will shook his head, though he meaningfully passed a hand through Abigail’s hair as she wept. He hoped the message would be clear: she at the very least needed a medical screening.

Jack approached them gravely. “Agent Hobbs, can you stand? We’re going to need you to give an account of what happened here.”

Abigail continued to cling to Will as his lips brushed her forehead. Gradually, her breathing began to steady itself, but she was unable to keep from crying. She didn’t want to think of all these questions just yet…

But she had to.

It was her job.

Slowly, Abigail let go of Will and stood to face Jack as she nodded. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly.

“I was walking through the hallway of the hospital when he grabbed me from behind. I was unarmed due to carelessness, and he caught me off guard. Dolarhyde dragged me through the trees and I managed to run away, but he caught up with me and attacked Will. I did what I had to do to keep us both alive.”

Despite her nerves and the clearness that she was  _not_ okay, Abigail managed to speak flatly and precisely as she recounted the events of what had just happened.

“It took you long enough to get here,” she added, somewhat aggressively.

Jack glared, but there was relief in his eyes that both of his profilers were relatively unharmed. “Dr. Bloom will take you home with her so she can evaluate your condition. Will, can you-?”

“Not necessary,” Abigail said. “I’m fine.”

“You just killed a man.”

“I did it so he wouldn’t kill Will.”

Finally, Will could no longer remain silent. “Abigail, you should listen to him,” he advised. “I know you’re shaken, but Dr. Bloom can help. And besides, I’d feel much better if you had someone around to keep an eye on you tonight, just in case you relapse. Three notable traumas in a matter of years is bound to weigh heavily upon you.”

“Legally, you need the psych eval whether you get help tonight or not,” Jack added. “Without it, we can’t allow you back onto the team. It’s just a standard precaution.”

Abigail was pissed. Fucking  _livid_. She was shaken and full of adrenaline and she had  _saved Will’s fucking life_! But – as always – all Jack Crawford cared about was whether or not Abigail was  _really_ her father’s daughter. 

“But present company excluded, right?” she spat. “Did you make Will jump through hoops to get involved, or is that just me?”

“That’s out of line and you know it, Agent Hobbs.”

Eager to get things back under control, Will decided to relay his own version of their attack. He rubbed his sore neck and looked pleadingly between the two. “I was with Dr. Bloom when we heard screams – Abigail’s, from the sound of it – so the two of us grabbed our guns and went after the source of the noise,” he said. “Alana and I agreed it would be best to split up, so I came out here while Bloom went to get back-up. Before long, the Dragon caught me unawares and got me into a chokehold. Abigail came on the scene, and amidst our struggle, he dropped the gun and she swooped in, taking aim and doing her duty. We’re both alive now thanks to her.”

Jack’s expression remained grave. “This isn’t how anyone wanted the situation to go down, but if this truly _is_ our man, you both will be commended for heroism. We’ll need to make a match on his teeth.”

“Zeller can do that,” Will offered. “Abigail should go home and get some rest.” Placing a hand on her shoulder, he added, “We all will. Things will look much clearer in the morning with fresh, rested eyes.”

Abigail promptly shrugged him off. “ _Fine_ ,” she spat. “I need to leave anyway.”

Abigail started off towards the crowd of people marking the edge of the trees, but turned around again. “If I was half the killer you are constantly considering me to be, Jack, you’d be dead by now. And I’d be in Italy with Hannibal.”

Somehow, even though the words had been meant for Jack, they cut Will deep. Even now, with Hannibal behind bars, he found himself believing that a part of Abigail still favored the abusive doctor. Lecter had killed Marissa and Boyle and  _ensured_  that Abigail would rely on him and him alone, but even with all of her training, did she truly realize that? Did she even  _know_  or  _care_  that Hannibal had hurt and severely damaged a part of her without a second thought? Why did Will, a man who genuinely cared for her, have to jump through hoops of fire when Hannibal manipulated her in order to receive her affection? It rankled him inside something fierce. Especially since night after night, Will had spent hours with Abigail by her hospital bed. Hannibal had only been there that first day. Every moment thereafter had been  _Will_  by her side, and yet she’d never known – he’d never felt the need to tell her.

Scoffing under his breath, Will turned on his heel and began heading back in the opposite direction. He could hear Jack shouting after him, but he didn’t bother turning around. He knew he was being childish – he  _knew_  it – but he didn’t plan on comforting Abigail when she clearly wished for a different presence.

 

* * *

 

Abigail, having made her way far enough from the rest of the team, grunted angrily and threw her fist at a nearby tree trunk. The bark took off a layer or two of skin and her knuckles burned as she flexed her fingers. The sound of Alana’s voice caught her off guard and she spun around sharply.

“You scared me,” she said, not making eye contact. Abigail didn’t want to see Dr. Bloom’s pity. 

Alana frowned. “Are you alright?” she asked. “We heard through the walkie-talkies what happened… My security guards are fetching the body, so before long, we’ll be able to do a check on his dental records.” Skeptically, she gave Abigail a once-over. “You’re sure you weren’t injured? Sometimes it takes a moment to feel pain once the initial shock wears off.”

Abigail huffed. “If you heard everything, you already know Jack’s an asshole and that I’m fine.” She flexed her hand again. “Well… mostly fine.”

Alana frowned more deeply. “Let’s go home. I’ve already called Margot to get the guest room all set up.” 

“Alana, I don’t  _want_ to go to your fucking mansion. I want to go  _home_. To  _my_ apartment.” Abigail ran her good hand through her hair in frustration. “I fucking killed someone and I just want to have a drink, pet my cat, and go to sleep. Is that seriously too much to ask?”

Alana’s mouth twisted, yet she tried to show patience. “I understand, Abigail – believe me, I very much felt the same after…well…” She waved a hand, keeping the other on her hip. “What I’m trying to say is, it isn’t wise to shut everyone out. Distancing yourself could be detrimental – especially if you feel the urge to unburden. In instances such as these, it would be best to reach out to someone who can share in your trauma and understand your pain.”

“Someone who shares my trauma?” Abigail looked around sarcastically. “I don’t see Will anywhere. Do you? Or are you talking about yourself? Other than Mason Verger, did you kill anyone else? Because I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”

With a sigh, Alana followed the other woman indoors. “I won’t press the issue,” she promised, “but I just don’t want to see you hurt again. Jack won’t follow up on your progress, just so long as I hand over my seal of approval, but  _I,_ unfortunately, am less forgiving if I don’t see genuine improvement. As your doctor and as your  _friend,_  it’s my job to ensure that you get the help you need.” Stopping in front of her office, she added, “Please let me know if you change your mind. Goodnight, Abigail.”

She entered her office and closed the door, feeling guilty for not being more adamant about making Abigail spend the night.

 

* * *

 

Freshly showered and with a glass of whiskey hanging loosely between his fingers, Will sat on the edge of his hotel bed, his phone pressed to his ear. 

“Hey, hotshot.”

He grinned and unlaced his shoes. “It’s good to hear your voice,” he said. “It’s been…a long day, to put it simply. We think we’ve got him.”

“The Tooth Fairy?”

Will nodded. “Yeah. That means I’ll be coming home soon, just so long as the dental records match up to all the victims.” Smile fading, he absently rubbed at the bruising on his neck. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Molly about the attack – not when he wasn’t there to tell her in person. Instead, he tried a different approach. 

“Abigail was the one who stopped him,” he said. “She killed him, unfortunately, so now she’s got another life on her hands. I’m worried for her emotional state. I know you’ve never met one another, and it’s asking a lot, but…if she were to agree to it, what would you say to having her stay with us for a few weeks? I just know I’d feel a lot better if I could keep an eye on her.”

Or more specifically, keep her away from Lecter and the tabloids.

Molly mulled over Will’s suggestion as she stroked one of the several dogs that surrounded her. “Wouldn’t Jack flip his lid if he lost the both of you?” She shook her head. “I mean, wouldn’t he be shorthanded if you came home and brought one of his agents with you?”

Molly honestly didn’t think she would mind having another woman around, seeing how even most of their dogs were boys. A little something extra to break up the testosterone might be fun…despite her clear jealousy from before.

In spite of himself, Will chuckled bleakly. “Jack would ‘flip his lid’ regardless of what I decide,” he said. “But he’s been around the block  _more_  than enough times to be able to handle himself on his own. He was known as ‘The Guru’ back in the day, you know.” Absently licking his lips, Will exhaled through his nose. “Besides, he’s worried about Abigail. He knows she could be a loose cannon after tonight. Admittedly, I’m worried about it too…ending a life can really take a toll on a person.” 

“What do you mean by ‘loose cannon’? Do you think she’s dangerous?”

“W-well no, I just…what I mean is, I think she’s fragile and needs some distance from the Bureau. A nice retreat in a woodsy area could do the trick. Abigail used to live in a very woodland home.”

There came a pause, then Molly offered, “Ask her about it, and then get back with me. But if she doesn’t want to come, don’t force her. I know how you are.”

Will chuckled. “Will do. Thanks, Molly.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more. See you soon.” Hanging up, he pocketed his phone and checked the clock on the wall.

 

* * *

 

As she walked back down the hallway, Abigail looked over at the doors to Hannibal’s cell. She looked between her options (the hallway and the exit), and sighed as she went down through the doors and deeper into the BSHCI.

“Abigail?” Hannibal’s voice was laced with a hint of surprise as he regarded her.

“Hello, Doctor,” she said, crossing her arms. “I got him.”

Hannibal’s smile grew serpentine. “As I knew you would, Abigail. Although I am quite disappointed to hear that the case was finished without me.”

“That makes you the only one…” Abigail paused, and then didn’t know why she continued instead of leaving. “He nearly killed Will, but I shot him through the throat. He choked on his own blood and the taste of lead. You wouldn’t have liked the mess.”

Hannibal continued to smile. “That’s my girl.”

Abigail shifted, suddenly appearing uncomfortable. “I should go. Goodnight, Hannibal.”

“Goodnight, Abigail.”

And then she went home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely forgot about this fic, hence the lack of updates. Anyway, as I was telling a reader on FFN, Dolarhyde wasn't the primary focus of this story. Back when my RP partner and I had been plotting, we'd considered Francis kidnapping Abigail and tormenting Will with the fact, and I thought that's how things were going to go, but then this just happened. Writing often changes during the actual process, so voila. It became more about Will and Abigail's mental stability and how they can handle more blood on their hands, regardless of the victim's guilt.


	8. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Strong sexual content warning.**

Abigail sat across from Jack in his office. She was glaring daggers as he did everything he could to hold his ground.

"You have got to be  _fucking_ _kidding_   _me,"_  she spat.

"I'm not, Agent Hobbs. You'll need to turn in your badge and gun, and remember: if you're caught with a firearm  _not_  mandated by the FBI, it can mean big trouble."

Abigail remained silent.

"Hobbs, look-"

"No, Jack. I'm not playing this game with you anymore. If you want to suspend me, go ahead. Don't bullshit me by making it about your 'concern' for my health. I'm  _fine_."

"Dr. Bloom saw you speak with Dr. Lecter." Abigail froze, so Jack went on, "You say you don't remember what happened when he held you captive, but we both know that's a load of shit. I can't trust you if you're running off having heart-to-hearts with a serial killer without following protocol."

"We're done here." Abigail stood and put her folders down aggressively onto Jack's desk, scattering a few papers from the force. "I'll let  _you_ handle the paperwork for these. See you in the lab."

Jack rubbed his temples as Abigail slammed the door on her way out.

 

* * *

 

"Agent Hobbs… Should you be here?" Instantly, Will knew that Abigail would be annoyed, but he found it unorthodox that she was there in the lab. Nevertheless, he shook it off and tried to maintain a level of professionalism. "I came because Price said he has the lab results. Were you informed of the same?"

"I work here,  _Mister_ Graham," Abigail said as she entered, her voice filled with as much vitriol as she could muster. "And in case you've forgotten, that means I should be here more than  _you_  should."

It wasn't fair to go after Will like this, but he had way more freedom than she ever did, and that was without so much as a temporary badge. She couldn't help but feel more than a little bitter. Abigail wondered if Will had been suspended after killing her father, but decided not to ask, as she figured she'd just get more upset.

An awkward bout of silence passed, then Will shrugged. "I know you're probably not going to like this, but I was thinking that maybe you should come home with me. You know, for a mini retreat? Out where I live, it's very secluded, so you could take a trip and make it completely about yourself." He cleared his throat. "Or, uh…we could do something else? Together?"

"With you  _wife_? With  _our_ history?" Abigail almost laughed. "Will, you can't be serious. I mean, yes, I would love to get as far away from here as possible. The sooner the better, really, but  _seriously?_  Me and you aren't exactly the best people to leave alone together."

It wasn't that Abigail  _didn't_ want to go away with Will, but she certainly didn't want to be walking on eggshells around the woman who was fucking him.

Keeping his eyes on the coffee pot, Will poured himself a cup of the godawful sludge before blowing the steam. Abigail's sharp tone roused him enough to look over his shoulder. "I don't know what you mean," he said. Deep down, a part of him was afraid they were under constant surveillance. Swallowing the bitter liquid, he set down his cup before approaching her, his tone lowering as he added,  _"All_ of us have history here, Abigail – it's unavoidable. And we  _won't_  be alone. You'll be with me, Molly, and my step-son. Granted, we could always take little trips on our own, if my family becomes too much for you, but I think the dogs would enjoy seeing you again."

His pets seemed like a benign enough direction to steer the conversation. When in doubt, Will tended to rely on his dogs since very rarely did a topic go sour afterward.

Abigail shook her head. "I refuse to babysit. Or listen to you sleep with her. The big 'What I Wants' don't matter these days."

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Will sighed. "If that's not what you want, then tell me what you  _do_  want. I was informed that Jack was giving you a sabbatical of sorts, so you'll need something to occupy your time. I was hoping it could be spent with me, and in a more healthy, recreational manner than being alone."

Abigail flinched. "Wait a second," she said, hoping her temper was in check, "who told you I was going on  _sabbatical_ _?_  Did  _Jack_ say that?"

Abigail rubbed her face with the heels of her palms. She wanted to scream. How was it that any time she did anything it never worked out nicely? After a moment, she dropped her hands and sighed heavily. "You know what? Never mind. I don't think I want to know."

Will felt his temper flare. "Jack may have told me about your sabbatical, but  _you_  went to visit Hannibal last night. If anyone in this room has a right to be angry, it definitely isn't you, Abigail."

Abigail's face instantly flushed. "Are you saying you're angry I went to speak with him? What the hell do  _you_  have to be angry about?!" Her voice shook as it rose in volume with her anger. "I  _killed_ someone, Will, and I didn't know who else to talk to!"

"I've killed someone, too!" Will thundered.  _"More_  than just one person, might I add, so you could've come to me! You didn't  _have_  to speak with a man who wants nothing more than to see you fall! So yes, I  _am_  angry, because unlike Hannibal, I actually give a shit about you as a person – to me, you're not just some meat puppet serving as a manipulative device! You're not just a means to an end!" Will slammed the flat of his palm against the desk, now beginning to shake. "In case you're forgetting, Abigail, he chose me. He chose  _me_  that night,  _not_  you, and  _more_  than willingly sacrificed you because he does  _not_  give a  _shit_  about you!"

Tears burned in Abigail's eyes and she tried to force them away. Her fists clenched and unclenched with anxiety and she was so mad that she felt sick.

Seeing her pain made tears cloud Will's own vision, but he furiously blinked them away. He hadn't meant to hurt her – he had  _not_  meant to be so cruel – but how else could he get Abigail to see things the way he did? That Hannibal was only  _using_  her and everyone else to get to  _him?_

Exhaling through his nose, Will shook his head and stepped back. "Jack suspended you because it's  _protocol_  to do that any time an agent takes a life. It's just a precaution, Abigail, not because we don't trust you. We just-"

"You know what?" Abigail cut in, almost laughing. "I quit. I'm done with this bullshit, and the politics, and everyone treating me like I just got out of a coma all over again. I fucking  _quit!"_

Will froze, feeling his temper flare up again. "For God's sake, Abigail, you really want to quit? You  _really_  want to stop now just because we're adhering to the law and trying to ensure that you get the best possible care you can?" He laughed humorlessly. "The Abigail I knew five years ago wouldn't have quit – she would've kept going, if only to prove us all wrong. So what's changed? Has Hannibal eroded not only your common sense, but your drive and passion as well?" He stalked toward her, now towering over her petite frame as his hands shook. "If that's how you feel, then  _go._  I'm going back to Florida, so it makes no difference to me."

But it did. It  _always_  did with Abigail, and that's what pained him so deeply.

"Don't you  _dare_ try and one-up me, Will Graham!" Abigail seethed. "You weren't in the field after killing my dad because  _you_ were supposedly worried about  _me_. Did Jack pull you after you displayed Randall?"

"Of course I was worried about you!" Will shouted. "I didn't visit because I was afraid of what I would become…I didn't get _too close,_  because I didn't want to finish what your father had started! Hannibal had twisted and warped my perception to the point I  _believed_  myself capable, so you're goddamn right I was worried!" With an irate little scoff, he pulled back and rolled his eyes, almost as if he were attempting to cast out the very image. "Randall was different," he snapped. "Jack and I were trying to lure Hannibal into a trap. With the Dragon, there  _is_  no need to lure him anymore, because he's  _dead._  If Hannibal had been caught directly after Randall's death, then yes, I  _would_  have been pulled."

Abigail trembled, her eyes burning with tears. "I couldn't talk to you with Jack standing there. And even if he wasn't, would you really want to hear about the rush of power again? Like when I told you about Nick Boyle? Would you  _really_  take my hand and tell me it's okay to feel like that while you're covered in the blood of another one of my victims?"

Abigail's words only served to vex and agitate. "Don't turn this back around to that 'rush of power' bullshit," Will spat, "because you  _know_  why it felt good – for the both of us. It feels  _good_  to end evil, and it feels  _good_  to put a stop to bad people. You  _saved_  dozens of lives today, Abigail, including the Dragon's future victims. And with Boyle, you said so yourself: you saw your father when you attacked. Why  _wouldn't_  that feel good after all the hell he'd put you through?"

Will's hands moved to grip at her arms, digging tightly into her shoulders as she laughed. "Stop it," he hissed. "Just  _stop_  it!" She slapped him then, the force of the blow causing his head to swivel roughly to the side. Stunned, he released her, blinking at her through stinging eyes as she continued to throw cutting insults in his direction.

"You are the world's worst liar," Abigail hissed. "You have an opinion on  _everything_ I do! Hannibal was the molding you refused to be! You were terrified of me and hid it behind a mask of 'caring about me.' Hannibal took care of me when you shut yourself up in 'professionalism' and I will  _not_ let you take that jealousy out on me."

Will's jaw tensed.  _"What_  molding? Are you truly that delusional? Hannibal used you as a goddamn social experiment, first by getting your parents killed, then by murdering your one and  _only_  real friend, and  _then_  by getting you to believe that you murdered Boyle even though it was  _self-defense_  so that you would rely on him and him alone. And apparently it worked, because you can't see that you're just a  _puppet._  At least I'm free of him!" Will struck the wall by Abigail's head. "I was terrified of  _hurting_  you, not  _you,_  yourself! If my wanting to keep you safe is jealousy, then so be it! You didn't see Hannibal outside of your encounters – you didn't  _see_  what I did, nor the indifference he gave on your behalf! But if you want to keep acting like things are peachy keen, then be my guest. Consider this me washing my hands of you – the  _both_  of you – for good!"

"Then do it." Abigail shrugged her shoulders, her features resigned and her voice lacking all fight.  _"Do_  it. Stop saying you'll walk away when you come back every time. You're still on a leash, Will. We all are."

Abigail got as close to him as she could, her voice cold and low as she went on, "We deserve more and I'm tired of accepting less. This is me walking away. Now it's your turn."

Will felt his stance straighten. "Is that what you want?" Abigail pressed forward then, cold and unfeeling, and something inside him finally snapped. Breaking away from her, he used the flat of his palm to shove the contents of the lab desk onto the floor, his eyes wild and manic as he hissed, "You're not going anywhere and you know it.  _This_  is me finally leaving."

He grabbed his coat and stormed out of the room in a huff, clipping Beverly as he pushed his way into the hall.

"Jesus, Graham," she swore. When he showed no sign of slowing down, Beverly spared Abigail an incredulous look before directing her gaze toward the floor, taking in the sight of scattered files and knickknacks with concern. "Rough morning?"

Shaking it off, Beverly stepped inside and passed Abigail the findings on Dolarhyde. "The teeth are a match," she said. "Looks like you nabbed yourself a killer, Hobbs. Congratulations." Cautiously, she added, "I guess there's no sense in Graham staying on now that the case is concluded. I'll ask him if he needs any help before departure."

"Lucky me," Abigail muttered. Rejecting the offered file, she pleaded, "Don't congratulate me. I quit."

"Why?" Beverly asked, shock filling her voice. "Abigail, I can imagine how frustrated you are about getting suspended, but-"

"No buts, Bev. I quit. I'm being suspended for talking to Lecter, and Jack is simply passing it off as 'protocol.' I'm sorry, but I can't take everyone's distrust anymore. If I don't get out of here, I promise you that mine will be the next body you find."

"Abigail," Beverly pleaded, but it was too late. She had already left the lab.

 

* * *

 

Beverly left shortly after Abigail did, hoping to catch up with Will. Luckily, she found him out in the parking lot.

"I think we need to talk about Abigail. She's just as bad as you were before you figured out Lecter was drugging you."

Will had been opening his car door when he heard Beverly's voice. Shoulders tensing, he scowled before shaking his head and climbing into the vehicle. "What's to be done, Beverly? She's made her choice, and now she's going to have to deal with the consequences."

The woman appeared incredulous. "How can you say that about one of your coworkers? Or better yet, about one of your  _friends?"_

"She doesn't consider me a friend, and she's made that abundantly clear," Will snapped. "If she wants my help, then yes, of course I'll be there for her, but there's only so much abuse I can take before I lose my cool. You saw the aftermath of our tiff, I'm sure."

Beverly frowned. "Her decisions shouldn't be yours to make."

"And mine shouldn't be yours," Will fired back. Flinching at his own tone, he covered his face with his palms and exhaled. "I'm sorry, I just…that was uncalled for. If Abigail wants my help, give her my contact information." He reached into his pocket and fished out a scrap of paper (which was just a receipt from the gas station) before scrawling out the name of his hotel and the address. Handing it over, he said, "I'm going to go there now. If I don't hear from her in three hours, I'm going to get on a plane back to Florida."

Beverly nodded stiffly. "Alright, Graham. Have a nice trip."

 

* * *

 

"There you are." Approaching Abigail with careful, even strides, Beverly said, "I've been looking all over for you. I doubt you want to see me right now, but Will said he's leaving in a few hours." Holding out the scrap of paper he'd given her, she added, "He said if you want to talk, you should contact him as soon as possible. Personally, I think you're both a couple of stubborn jackasses, so the sooner you get past this little grudge, the better."

Abigail held her tongue as Beverly scolded her. The last thing she needed was more of the FBI against her. She took the scrap of paper and looked at the address, resigning herself to what she needed to do. "Fine. I'll talk to him. But you need to tell Jack that if he doesn't ease up, I'll walk away. Deal?"

Beverly blinked. "So you've changed your mind? You're staying?"

"I'm already in too deep to walk away completely, don't you think?"

She smiled and nodded. "Fair enough."

Abigail mirrored her nod and walked off toward her car. If she drove fast enough, she could meet Will at the hotel.

 

* * *

 

In spite of Will's message, he honestly wasn't counting on Abigail taking him up on his offer. Upon his arrival at the hotel, he'd promptly made a beeline for the bar in the downstairs lobby. He figured a couple drinks wouldn't hurt before the plane ride. But, as was customary when he was in an emotional rut, he ended up having one too many, and had been personally asked to return to his room.

Sullen and disgruntled, Will rubbed at his bleary eyes as the elevator opened and allowed him to step off (or in his case, stagger). That was when he realized a young woman was sitting by his hotel room.

She looked up at him, appearing ashen as she said, "We need to talk."

He squinted in bemusement. "Abigail?"

She eyed Will suspiciously as he approached, staggering and clumsy. "Just how shitfaced are you?"

His double vision focused and he swallowed. "Jesus, I'm sorry… I didn't think you'd be coming." Keeping his head bent, Will shuffled over to the door before inserting the key. "I didn't get a chance to book my flight just yet, but we can talk for a bit. If, uh…if that's what you need."

Showing her into the room, Will flipped on the light and tossed his coat onto the chair by the bed, now loosening his collar by unfastening two of the top buttons. "You need anything to drink? I think I have something in the fridge."

He didn't know why he felt the need to act civil and as if they were good friends, given the circumstances. Perhaps Will just didn't want to face the inevitable. Perhaps he wanted to believe everything was alright between them.

"Are we talking a mini-bar or a personal stash? Not that I'm picky. I could use a drink."

Will reeled from Abigail's words, shame-faced, before grudgingly opening up the mini fridge. He kept his back turned to her as he pulled out what was clearly a personal stash. Finally, he bit out, "You didn't expect me to get back into this business sober, did you? I tried that the first time around, and it didn't go so well."

Abigail sat down on the edge of his bed, her hands awkwardly folding in her lap. She guessed that prickly civility was better than a drunken screaming match, but the atmosphere of the room was uncomfortable... Like it held a false sense of security.

With a sigh, Abigail crossed her legs and leaned back on her palms. "So are you going to start, or do you want me to?"

After pouring Abigail a couple fingers of whiskey, Will handed her the glass before having a seat in the chair by the TV. He was tempted to pour himself a bit as well, but knew that realistically, he needed to give her his undivided attention (or at least, what was left of it).

"Ladies first," Will muttered. "You clearly came here with intent, so far be it for me to muddy the waters."

Absently, he began to thumb loose the buttons on his shirt, uncomfortable by how over-heated he felt from both the alcohol and his nerves. Underneath was his grey undershirt, practically threadbare from use, and already soaked through beneath the nape of his neck.

Abigail swallowed. "I came here because otherwise, I'd have Beverly harassing me to come see you." She looked up and felt her face flush slightly as Will removed his shirt. The thin fabric clung to him and Abigail had to look away in order to hold her focus. "But, um… Look, I'm not going to apologize, and I'm not going to take back what I said. I'm beyond fed up with the bureaucracy of my job and how, five years later, I've been under the same level of scrutiny I was at the very beginning." She threw back the remainder of her drink and sighed. "I'm not fed up with  _you,_ Will. I'm fed up with how my history is ruining my future." She spared a glance at him, hoping her cheeks weren't as red as they felt. "Your turn."

Absently rubbing at the back of his neck, Will blinked at her, slowly and with a bit of difficulty. "It's a rigged, shitty system," he agreed, "but you won't have to worry about Jack forever. Perhaps we could get you reassigned to another branch." His gaze softened. "Do you really want to ignore your true calling just because of some pompous pricks? If I threw in the towel after every negative experience, I'd continuously be back at square one."

Abigail encouraged him to speak then and Will faltered, suddenly wishing he hadn't declined himself a drink. "I'm not sorry for reminding you of the truth," he said. "I  _am_  sorry that I was too blind to realize you were alive. We could've avoided so much shit if I'd stopped being so reckless, but the truth is…well…" He huffed. "When I thought you were dead, I stopped caring about the consequences. It's almost as if a part of me wanted to die, too, and I was gunning toward self-annihilation. I never expected you to be on the other side of that door waiting for me." Keeping his gaze trained on his shoes, Will shrugged. "You know how I feel about you. These past several years have been… _difficult,_  to put it lightly, and seeing how after all I went through for your sake, you  _still_  side with  _him_  cuts something deep. I don't know if I can get past it."

Abigail bit her lip. "I need to walk away, Will. I don't know how else to explain it or why I even  _need_ to explain myself to you. Maybe it'll be forever, or maybe it'll be just for a little bit, but I need the world to hit reset. I can't keep feeling like this forever, and if I do…" Abigail cut herself off. She didn't want to finish the sentence that they both knew the answer to.

"I'm still not sure you've ever actually said it," she finally said. "You've told me you were unsure of your feelings or  _afraid_  of your feelings, but you've never actually _told_  me what they are."

The young woman stood and went back to the fridge for more whiskey, speaking to Will with her back turned while she poured. "You're married. You have a kid you take care of. You have a life away from me, so I get it. But just talk – tell me what you  _want_ to say, instead of what you think you can."

Abigail's observation was not what Will wanted to hear. "I can't do that," he said. His tone had taken on a hoarse, uncertain quality, and he felt sick as he watched her pour herself another glass. "We're complicated, Abigail…our relationship is not something I can readily box and label, no matter how much I might want to." When she walked by, he took hold of her hand, forcing her to halt in her tracks. Keeping his gaze focused on her middle, he gently ran his thumb along her knuckles, his breath feeling like knife points as he swallowed. "Do you want me to admit to the jealousy you accused me of? Because yes, I was jealous…I always have been, if I'm being honest with myself. Hannibal never even had to try. But me? I always have to bend over backwards and prove to you every step of the way that my intentions are good."

Will took her arm, and Abigail felt her chest tighten at the gentle touch of his thumb on her knuckles. Abigail grimaced. "I've  _always_ wanted to be in your corner, Will. Honest! And I know it's hard to understand, but with Hannibal, I knew exactly what I was getting. He and my dad are the same kind of person…toxic and abusive and  _controlling,_  so I felt comfortable with him. But you?" She laughed weakly, her eyes filling up with tears. "You were good and kind and  _genuine,_  and that terrified me – still does, if I'm being honest with myself. I don't  _know_  what kind of love that is, because I've never had it before. Not before you. And  _that's_ why I don't know if it's a good idea for me to come with you, because I know I'm starting to really, genuinely care about you, too."

Will balked, abruptly releasing her hand. Swallowing low in his throat, he rubbed his palms along his knees and exhaled. "If that's true, then why didn't you ever say anything before now? I  _tried_  to reach out to you, Abigail, but you kept me at bay. I felt obligated to leave you alone…to move on."

Abigail took a step closer, close enough to smell the booze on his breath and the hints of his aftershave. "Don't you understand that Hannibal is the one who replaced my dad? Not you." She took a swig from her glass and looked Will right in the face. "When the men in your life are always out for ulterior motives, I can't help but be paranoid. Even now. With Hannibal… I always know what he wants from me. I can never tell with you."

Will ducked his head then, feeling a mixture of shame and indignation. "All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy…nothing more, nothing less. Please don't mistake my affections for manipulation."

Abigail was close – perhaps a bit  _too_  close, by proprietary standards – and Will could detect hints of floral shampoo and soap. "I'm not your father," he echoed, nodding. "I realize now that I latched onto that idea so readily because it wasn't  _natural_  to feel what I did…to feel what I  _do."_  He bowed his head again. "A goddamn serial killer was able to read into my perversions long before I ever did. Stammets knew you were the one I was reaching for." Chuckling bitterly, he rubbed at the back of his neck. "I only wish we'd reached for one another at the same time. It's too late now."

"It doesn't have to be." Abigail felt guilty even as she said it. She wasn't a homewrecker. She wouldn't ruin some kid's life because she was in love with his step-father, but with Will  _right there,_ it was difficult not to fantasize.

Abigail finished her drink and put her free hand on Will's chest. "I should go."

"You can't change the past." The words lodged in Will's throat and nearly suffocated him, his head reeling as he slowly stood up. "We've never been on the same wavelength, Abigail, and that's our one fatal mistake. Even if I wanted…I-I mean…"

Her hand stroked along his chest then, soft and light, and he found himself curling his touch around her fingers. "I don't want you to go." His throat ached from holding back all he wished to say, and he drew her into his arms, burying his face into the crook of her neck as he shakily breathed in the scent of her perfumed hair. "Don't go…please."

Abigail's face flushed as Will pulled her close. So used to rejection, to scoldings, the forwardness of his affections caught her entirely off guard. But this was also what she had wanted, and after the shock had faded, she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders.

Passing a hand through Abigail's dark locks, Will held her akin to a lifeline, his limbs shaking as he pressed a kiss to her pulse. It was the first time he had touched her –  _intimately_  touched her – since their plane ride to Minnesota. Her skin was just as soft and warm as he remembered it to be, his lips ghosting along the curve of her neck as he gripped at her waist. "I'm sorry," he rasped. "I'm drunk, I'm  _sorry…"_

Abigail shifted so she could look at him. "Don't be," she whispered and cupped his face.

Will swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing low in his throat. "I'm so sorry," he choked again. "You've always known me better than most, Abigail, and after Dr. Lecter…well…I guess it's unsettling to think someone can see me as well as you can. Not even Molly…" He trailed off, his eyes appearing distant and pained. Shaking it off, he whispered, "Everything's just so fucked." Clutching her more tightly, he buried his face into her hair and trembled.

Abigail shifted then and her face was in front of his, her eyes seeking his bleary gaze as he held onto her as if his very legs would give out.

Cupping her cheek with one hand, Will turned his head and pressed his lips to the soft curve of her face. It had been a warm, affectionate gesture – perhaps even an attempt to prove what they had was platonic – but as she traitorously leaned into his touch, Will knew it was all over.

"I need you," Abigail pleaded.

He blinked, and then Abigail's mouth was urging strongly into his own, her smaller hands grasping at his collar as her warm, eager lips devoured him in a kiss that wrought his senses. Staggering with her away from the wall, Will held her face between his trembling hands and could  _feel_ the heat from his wedding band burning into her skin.  _Ohgodohgodohgod._

Breaking the kiss with a panicked breath, Will smoothed a hand through Abigail's hair and swallowed, tasting bile as he shook his head. "We can't do that," he whispered. But then his mouth was on hers again, tugging and pulling on her dark locks as he gave in to all the months of dark, pent-up desires and frustration. Whether or not he wanted to face the facts, he needed Abigail – he  _needed_  her, and as he fussed with the buttons on her blouse, he licked, bit, and sucked at any bit of flesh she offered up to his greedy lips.

Abigail, just as hungry for him as he was for her, let her own hands move to Will's belt. Her fingers fumbled slightly, but she got it open and worked his fly down as well.

"We  _need_  this," she whispered, panting heavily.

The desperation from nearly dying – of nearly losing Abigail a  _third_  time – propelled Will in his desires, and he arched into her awaiting touch, offering little resistance to her fumbling hands as they tore at his pants. "Get on the bed," he commanded. Eyes wild and blue, he yanked at Abigail's blouse until he'd bared her to his wandering touch, his thumb grazing her lace-clad nipple as his lips brushed against hers in a soft, barely-there kiss.

"We  _need_ this," he agreed. Maneuvering Abigail none-too-gently onto the mattress, Will shucked his pants and palmed himself through his boxers, several soft, shallow breaths catching in his throat as he watched her assume the perfect pose of surrender. With her cheek pressed into the bedding, Abigail whimpered as Will crawled over top of her and slipped a hand beneath her skirt, rocking his palm into her heat as he ground his swelling arousal into the soft, shapely curve of her bottom.

"I'm not going to fight you anymore," Will promised, nipping at her ear. With his hand sliding beneath the hem of her panties, he slid two fingers along her slit once, twice, before pushing them deep inside her soaking warmth. "That's a good girl," he whispered, "take me in."

Abigail let out a soft moan that grew louder as he penetrated her. Her breath hitched and she pressed back against his fingers, yearning for more.

"Will," Abigail breathed, " _fuck_ …" She squirmed against him, every nerve needy and desperate. " _Please…"_

Abigail arched her backside into his swelling arousal, causing a soft groan to catch against her neck as Will pushed and ground his erection between her thighs. Dizzy with need, he sucked at her pulse and peeled her soaked panties from her lithe frame, using a finger to trace several tight, brisk little circles around her clit.

"Do you know how long it's been?" Will rasped. With his lips at her ear, he turned Abigail's head so that he could lick at her mouth, his fingers now pumping between her legs more strongly. Each jerk of his hand drew her hips in closely against him and he quaked, weak with over-stimulation as he ground her against his lap. "Ever since Minnesota… _that's_  how long." The day she'd kissed him, Abigail had started a never-ending cycle of shamed self-indulgence and yearning. Each time he'd curled a hand between his legs, he'd come with her name on his tongue, the syllables choking him from the sheer  _wrongness_  of what could and  _should_  have ultimately never been his.

Abigail made soft, needy little noises as Will rubbed against her with his cock and fingered her insides. The realization of just how  _long_  he'd wanted this had her reeling with desire. She had wanted him for so long, and the pure  _possessiveness_ in his voice made her tremble in anticipation of what he would do to claim her completely.

Shucking off his boxers with trembling, jittery limbs, Will pressed his hand against the nape of Abigail's neck and forced her cheek against the bed, his breath coming out fast and hard as he began to grind himself against her slit. The warm, wet slickness that greeted him made him suck a breath and he exhaled, still holding onto her neck as he warned, "I can still stop… Just say the word, Abigail, and I'll stop."

His hand was strong, and the pressure against her already racing pulse was enough to have her squirming with need. "I will never forgive you if you stop now, Will Graham," she breathed, her voice shaking and desperate.

Still circling her clit, Will gently bit down on her neck and groped at her supple curves, his breath coming out white-hot against her skin as her soft, pitiful mewling noises filled him with need. Abigail's plea was all the permission he sought. Draping over her more fully, he buried his face into her shoulder and groaned, slowly inching inside her as his free hand gripped at the sheets. He was cautious with his movements –  _careful_  – lest she decide this wasn't what she desired. But when he felt her flex around him with impatience, Will covered her hand with his and drove forward more strongly, a stifled hiss catching in his throat as she backed into him.

Beneath their writhing bodies, the old, weathered mattress creaked maddeningly, and Will lifted Abigail's chin so that she could look at him over her shoulder. His lips crashed into hers as he groaned and licked at her giving mouth.

"Fuck…" He shuddered, curling against her possessively as her tight, soaking cunt massaged and gripped at his length. "Tell me what you need," he whispered. "Tell me how you want to come."

Will's teeth at her neck, his hands on her body, the weight of him against her, it was overwhelming and deadly. The scratch of his facial hair was soft and far too explicit of a feeling, considering how it supposedly meant nothing at all. If Will hadn't been holding her so tightly, Abigail would've shoved herself back onto him with as much force as she could muster. But instead, she was forced to endure his slow thrusts. She squirmed as much as she could, several soft, whining sounds escaping her.

It seemed to be enough to get Will to give himself up, and then they were fucking. Hard, fast, and dirty. They kissed, groaning in a mess of tongues and teeth. Abigail bit at his lip aggressively and licked it akin to an apology.

The pace slowed, and Will breathed in her ear, wanting to know what she wanted.

"I don't care," she gasped. "I don't care so long as you're the one to do it.  _Aah…_  fuck…"

He had nearly lost her. The idea kept replaying over and over in Will's head, only serving to heighten the desperation of his thrusts and the firm, frantic pawing of his hands against her curves. Abigail bit at his lower lip, her teeth piercing the flesh with a savagery that had her keening into his mouth. Will could taste blood and it fueled him. With his hands gripping her waist tightly enough to leave bruises, he pounded into her with harsh, erratic movements, his tongue plundering her mouth as he fiercely rubbed her clit. Beneath him, he encouraged Abigail to back into his driving arousal.

"Fuck," he rasped.

This had been a long time coming. Every snide glance, word, and touch had sent them spiraling into limbo, and all of Will's pent-up self-loathing was now channeling into his punitive thrusts. Abigail mewled beneath him, pleading and gasping as he fucked her into the mattress. He would give her exactly what she needed.

Pulling out (and with much difficulty), Will breathlessly rolled onto his back and coaxed Abigail into straddling his hips, his eyes dark and prurient as he slowly pumped himself beneath her slit.

"Ride me," he commanded. Give her the control – give her the  _choice._  He continued to stroke himself between her legs, his free hand massaging and gripping at her thigh. The sensation of having her close –  _so close_  – to where he wished to be touched had him reeling. With a soft, sorry little sound, he tugged demandingly on her hips.  _"Ride me,"_  he bit out again.

With a soft whine, Abigail found she needed very little prompting to straddle him. She needed him. She needed him  _now_.

Getting into position, Abigail slowly lowered herself onto his cock, teasing him as best as she could manage. Her breathing hitched the more she took in, and she sharply dragged her nails across the skin of his torso, dark red lines following in their wake.

With a shuddery breath, Will clenched his teeth and arched, impatiently rolling his hips with the hopes of getting her to move. Abigail's eyes were bright and blue as she eased herself around him, his fingers digging into her waist as a soft snarl caught in his throat. She was a goddamn  _tease_  and he loved it. His mouth went slack and he shuddered, watching her as she fed her wet, greedy cunt with his length.

When she had him fully sheathed inside her, Abigail moved her hips slowly, bouncing ever so slightly on him as she brought her hands up to her hair to give Will the full view of her. He hissed at the delicious burning sensation from his scratches, a groan rumbling in his chest as she began roughly rolling her hips into his. Delirious with over-stimulation, he panted as he watched her bounce on his lap, her fingers weaving through her hair and pronouncing the curve of her modest, heaving breasts. Will was filled with stinging heat at the sight.

Abigail wanted him to look only at her, think only of her, and forget everything outside of her fucking him like this.

"Put your hands on me," she purred, slowing her pace to keep Will's attention. She didn't want him to lose his commanding tone. She wanted him to  _claim_ her.

Will shuddered. It was all the permission he'd yearned for.

He lunged for her then, yanking on Abigail's hair and crashing his mouth bruisingly into hers. He captured her muffled cries between their kiss, pausing long enough to whisper a soft, "Shh-shh." They couldn't be  _too_  loud, lest someone file a complaint. Licking at the bead of blood on her lower lip, Will lapped at her tongue and fed her the coppery essence, his cock twitching inside her as he growled into the kiss. His split lip still burned, and now she had a nick of her own, his hands gripping her ass and forcing her hips to pump and roll more aggressively into his. It wasn't enough… Oh God, it wasn't  _enough._

The aggression was painful and Abigail thrived knowing that Will had lost all control. She tasted blood, and moaned into his mouth, not caring if it was hers or his at this point.

With a low groan, Will kept his hands tangled in Abigail's hair and wrenched her roughly beneath him, his mouth licking and biting at whatever flesh he could claim. Hoisting her thighs up around his waist, Will plowed into her with renewed vigor, his eyes dark and almost  _dangerous_  as he wrapped his hands around her throat. When her mouth went slack, he devoured her lips in a demanding kiss, stealing her breath as his hips jerked frantically between her open thighs. "Come for me," he pleaded. Arching her hips up into his thrusts, Will kept one hand on her throat as he growled, "Abigail, I need you to  _come."_

She choked on her cries as everything tensed and she clamped her eyes shut as she came, Will's name barely recognizable as she cried out. Abigail could tell Will was reaching his own limit and she longed for it, scratching at his shoulders.

The hands that clawed at his back had  _killed_  a man, and Will trembled, biting down on her shoulder to quiet his soft, savage cries as he recalled the dangerous, intoxicating beauty she'd showed while arriving as his unforeseen protector. In the past, he had always been the reluctant rescuing party, but now Abigail had proven she didn't  _need_  saving. The princess was no longer locked away in her tower.

Feeling her shake beneath him, Will cupped her face and pressed his forehead to hers, breathing harshly as his touch grew almost  _tender._  But then he was moving harshly inside her, desperate for release as she clenched and spasmed around his driving arousal. "That's it," Will whispered, pulling Abigail in for a kiss as she moaned and keened into his mouth. Reaching between their bodies, he rapidly rubbed his thumb across her clit, ensuring that the tiny sparks of pleasure prolonged her orgasm as her cunt twitched and released around him. The flicker of internal movement sent Will over the edge and he snarled, emptying himself inside her as her thighs tightened around his waist.

With one final thrust, Will collapsed against her heaving breasts, his lips meeting with her skin as he struggled to catch his breath. His split skin stung and his mouth was sore, but he found himself smiling through the pain. "You okay?" he asked. Gently, his thumb ran along where he could already see bruising on her neck. "I didn't mean to hurt you…"  _I never mean to hurt you._

Abigail felt warm as Will filled her and she clung to him tightly. Her breathing was reduced to panting, and she sighed sweetly when Will collapsed against her. She stroked his hair as her whole body relaxed.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I'm fine. You  _know_ I've been through worse."

His thumb ran along her throat and she cupped his cheek to look at him. He almost looked sad, but maybe that was just because his lip was still bleeding. "I'm sorry about that," Abigail murmured, rubbing her thumb gently over the split. "I didn't mean to get you that badly."

Will flashed her a weary smile and kissed her thumb. "I'll heal." Now curling an arm around her shoulders, he pulled Abigail up to rest beneath his chin, his chest shallowly rising and falling as he stared up at the popcorn ceiling. Outside, the neon glow from the hotel bathed their bodies in fluorescent colors. Idly, he drew his thumb across Abigail's shoulder, half expecting the pinks and greens to smear across her skin. "We look like a crime scene," he feebly joked. He didn't have to go to a mirror to know he had bruising, scratches, and bite marks mapping his skin. Fortunately, they had just been in a recorded tussle with the Dragon. He could explain that away to Molly.

_Molly…_

Ignoring the lump in his throat, Will rubbed at the small of Abigail's back and pressed his cheek into her hair. "Are you going to come live with me?" He looked down at her then, lifting her chin so that he could gaze into those wide, all-encompassing blue eyes. Her gaze had the power to both sooth and maim. While lying with her in their sex-strewn sheets, Will drifted a hand between her legs and cupped her heat, lightly grinding his palm into her clit as he kissed her forehead. "Now is the only time we can be together," he whispered. "You can't have me when we're in Florida."

Abigail snuggled against him, letting her eyes close as she listened to his heart beat. His hands were in her hair and between her legs, and it was soothing and just…  _nice_. But something was wrong and she could feel it.

"I'll come to Florida," she said. "Just for a little while." But her answer wasn't enough and Will grabbed her face so their eyes met. "What?"

Will didn't answer her right away, and Abigail felt her face flush under his intense gaze. His hand drifted back down her side and between her legs again, his lips on her forehead as he reminded her of their limited time. Abigail squirmed, her body still hyper sensitive.

"No," she whispered, shifting to kiss his throat. "We're not going to talk about that right now."

Will felt both relief and dread from her acquiescence. While in Florida, he could keep an eye on Abigail – he could ensure that Hannibal wouldn't get to either one of them. But on the flip side, he also had to wonder if Abigail would be any good at concealing their intimacy. All her life she'd lied to survive. She was  _good_  at deception, and yet this didn't help to abate in his torment. If anything, it made it worse.

"We have a guest bedroom," Will softly told her. "It overlooks the ocean, and there's tons to do. I could take you fishing, maybe…or sail you out to the lighthouse overlooking the land." Between her legs, his hand began to roll more persistently, his thumb toying with her sensitive clit as his middle and index finger rubbed along her tight opening. He smeared their mingled fluids against her slit and breached her, sliding in to his knuckles as he opened and flexed his fingers. His movements this time were careful and deliberate instead of fast and forceful.

Enraptured by her erotic expressions and sounds, Will watched Abigail intently as he rocked his hand into her heat, his forehead pressing into hers as he hovered his lips over her gasping mouth. Abigail didn't want to talk about Florida. And quite frankly, in this moment, neither did he. With her skin flushed and her tight little cunt gripping at his fingers, he yearned to replace his hand with his mouth and get her to straddle his face.

"We'll talk about whatever you want," Will promised, lowering his mouth to press a kiss over her heart. "Anything at all."

"I told you to shut up."

Abigail's lips parted into an "o" at Will's touch and she held onto him tighter, trembling slightly. He was so gentle now that he had spent his aggression, but Abigail felt she would love it so much more if she didn't have to think about Will's wife who waited for him back in Florida. It made her feel genuinely guilty for having slept with him.

"Will," she breathed, "Will we shouldn't do this again." Even as she spoke the words, she rocked her hips, riding Will's fingers with pleasured delirium.

He was so handsome, and smart, and he  _understood her_. Will was everything Abigail wanted, no matter how many times people told her that someone like him was a bad idea. But Will knew what she wanted, he knew what she needed, and best of all, he gave it to her. Anyone else would have been gentle with her instead of covering her in the Pollock painting of bruises that now scattered across her skin. Anyone else would ask her if she was okay every five fucking seconds. Anyone else would be boring.

"I know," Will whispered, his thumb brushing Abigail's cheek. Guiltily, he trembled, working his hand between her thighs as her nails dug into his shoulders. A hiss caught in his throat and he groaned, his mouth going slack as she rocked into his thrusts.

Abigail was warning him – warning how they shouldn't  _do_  this again – and he nodded, trembling harder as he jerked inside her more strongly. "I know," he choked, "I just…I want to see you come again."

When in the throes of her orgasm, Abigail had looked so peaceful and  _sated,_  and he'd never before seen such pure contentment in her eyes. He never wanted to see her look sad and broken again.

"I just want you to come," Will insisted, claiming her mouth as he sighed into the kiss. Sliding his lips to the hollow of her throat, he sucked at her scar tissue and curled his fingers deeper inside her, groaning into her neck as his cock jerked in sympathy. "I'm afraid I won't be able to stop," he whispered. "When I touch you, I just…I don't see bad things anymore. I just see you." Cupping her hand over the scar on his stomach, Will pressed more fervently into the mark on her throat, his tongue glossing the skin as his thumb tightly circled her clit. Abigail had to be close. He could feel sporadic little spasms as he diligently stroked her insides.

Abigail half-heartedly put her hand on his chest, her nails curling into his collar bone. She didn't  _want_  him to stop, of course, but they couldn't fuck again. If they did, she wouldn't be able to refrain from doing so again when they left the state. Her breathing was sharp and shallow, her eyes fluttering shut as she rocked into Will's touch.

Will kissed her again, still possessive, but far less aggressively as he moved from her mouth, along her jaw, and then down to her throat. His words were warm against her skin and Abigail's other hand moved into his hair to keep him close. His thumb was doing wonders between her legs, but had she not been so sensitive already, it would have merely been teasing.

"Will," she gasped, her grip tightening as her body tensed and trembled once again. Abigail mewled and squeaked, her orgasm quieter and innocent this time. "A-ahh…"

Abigail grew flushed and her eyelids fluttered, her nails digging into his skin as Will diligently pumped his hand between her thighs. His lips pressed to her damp brow and he heard her sigh. With her free hand curling into his hair, Abigail's body began to tense and spasm like before, his mouth moving to devour her cries as she rocked into his fingers.

"That's it," Will whispered. Thrusting steadily into her orgasm, he watched her lips part and her head tilt as she jerked and trembled. When she'd collapsed into the bedding, Will withdrew his hand and kissed her, licking at her split lip before pulling back with a smile. "Thank you…" Even if she didn't understand it – even if she didn't  _want_  to know – her giving him this outlet had helped abate some of his inner torment.

Lifting his hand to his lips, Will sucked her essence from his fingers, his eyes dark and feral as he processed her clean scent and taste. "We should probably go soon," he whispered. "I've already booked myself a flight, but I'm sure I can squeeze you in, too." Gently tracing his thumb along her cheek, his brow puckered as he searched her eyes. "Are you sorry for what we've done?"

He wasn't. And perhaps that was what frightened him most.

"No," Abigail said flatly. "No, I'm not sorry."

Her admission made Will's heart soar, but then the lurking guilt resurfaced and he swallowed. "I'm glad," he whispered.

Abigail shifted and brought her lips up to Will's, kissing him sweetly and tasting herself on his tongue. Her body felt like rubber, and it made kissing Will feel surreal. All she wanted to do right now was fall asleep on his chest and wake up in the morning still wrapped in his embrace.

"When's the flight?" she asked. They were both still sticky with sweat, and Abigail felt like a shower might be best before getting on a plane for several hours to meet Will's wife. Something told her that Molly might not be happy if they showed up smelling like sex. "We should take a shower."

"The flight's not for a few hours," Will mumbled. Absently stroking along the small of her back, he heard her suggestion and flushed. It would seem that she was thinking far more clearly than he was.

"You're right," he agreed. Rolling up into a sitting position, Will got off the bed and padded toward the bathroom. Though the moment he saw his reflection, he balked at the sight of stinging welts, bruises, and indented bite marks. "Jesus, Abigail," he swore. "Good thing our perp was known for biting…" With a hint of reluctance, he traced along one of the possessive marks and winced from the sting. "I hope I handled you a little more carefully than you handled me…" With a wry smile when she appeared in the doorway, he leaned over and kissed her before turning on the water. There was still a thrilling, exhilarating rush from claiming Abigail in such a primitive, primal way that pulsed through his very veins.

With the water at a decent temperature, Will stepped underneath the shower head and held out a hand. "Want me to wash all your hard to reach places?" he quipped.

"I don't know, Will," she teased, "is your offer another excuse to feel me up?"

Eyes falling toward the angry red welts on her skin, he lost his smile and swore softly. "I'm sorry, Abigail," he apologized. "I've never…I-I mean, I don't think I've ever been this unnecessarily rough before."

Abigail leaned in to kiss him again, but she stopped at the concern in his eyes and the drop of his mouth. "Will…" Abigail knew that she probably looked more like a murder victim than when she  _was_ nearly a murder victim, but the pain still hadn't set in just yet. "We both did what we needed to do. It'll hurt like a bitch tomorrow – or later today – but that's not the point. I'm fine. Really."

His smile faded when hers did and he nodded, pressing his forehead to hers. "Do you mean physically, or emotionally?"

With a sigh, Abigail said, "Both. Can we not do this now? I'd rather just pretend it isn't an issue and then ignore it when it is."

It was no secret that this would hurt – that it  _did_  hurt – because Will loved both Molly and Abigail with everything he had. Nuzzling into her cheek, he kissed the corner of her mouth and brushed his thumb across her split lip, testing the tenderness before capturing her mouth with his own. The hot water coupled with her touch was intoxicating, and he cupped her face while deepening the kiss. "Let's get you cleaned up," he whispered.

Fetching the soap, Will began to gently scrub along her especially aggressive bite marks and bruising. He committed Abigail's every curve to memory, fully aware that this  _had_  to be the last time, were things to stay respectable between them. He swallowed and turned her around. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as he traced his soapy fingers along her shivering stomach.

Abigail melted into his every touch, the intimacy of his hands clouding her thoughts and relaxing her every muscle. Her breathing hitched once again and his name on her lips was barely a whisper.

Drifting his lips toward the crook of her neck, Will's heart felt heavy as he dipped his hand down in order to gently rub, stroke, and clean the sticky apex of her thighs. Sighing into her skin, he carefully glossed his fingers along her slit before soaping along her stomach and breasts.

The steam made them both drowsy, and Will pressed several deep, open-mouthed kisses along Abigail's pulse as his thumb lazily traced her nipple. When their eyes met over her shoulder, he captured her lips and kissed her, moving his soapy hands to run along her arms and waist. "We'll have to go in about an hour," he murmured, drawing in to brush his lips over hers. "Think you'll be ready?"

"Will, stop," Abigail pleaded, moving his hand down from her breast. "I've got what I need in my car. Just…just don't make this harder than it needs to be. Please."

"I think you and I both know that pretending and ignorance aren't the way to go," Will muttered. "We've been doing that for a long time now –  _way_  too long, in fact." With a sigh, he finally nodded in acquiescence. "Alright," he softly agreed. "No more. This will be the last time for either of us."

Stooping in to press a kiss to her damp cheek, Will stepped back and bitterly scrubbed at his stinging wounds. Despite the heat of the water, he suddenly felt unspeakably cold. "There's already talk of rewarding you, you know." He rinsed off the soap, keeping his eyes averted. "I've heard rumors about some sort of medal of honor. So even though Jack is suspending you – which is  _protocol,_  by the way – there are still plenty of people that recognize you as a hero. Myself included."

Abigail winced, guilt lancing through her like a lightning strike. "I guess that all depends on whether or not Beverly forwarded my declaration on to Jack… God… We're naked in the shower, Will, Jack is the  _last_ thing I want to think about." Will turned off the water and handed her a towel, which she instantly wrapped around her shivering form. She was starting to feel like an idiot.

Carefully moving around her, Will began drying himself off as he stepped onto the rug. Abigail clearly didn't feel comfortable with talking about work (he didn't either, if he was being honest with himself), so he opted for their future plans.

"I think you'll like it in Florida," he said. "Don't let all those stories about killer gators fool you, because it's perfectly pleasant. Where Molly and I live is completely secluded. You won't have to worry about being harassed by the press."

Abigail sighed. "The press is the least of my concerns, to be honest. But it is a bonus, I guess." She suddenly appeared nervous. "Are you going to tell your wife?"

Running his fingers through his damp hair (he rarely bothered with a comb), Will pulled on his flannel before buttoning it up the front. "I thought you didn't want to discuss the inevitable… Wouldn't addressing the situation head-on be undermining that request?"

He watched Abigail self-consciously dry herself off, her damp hair clinging to her cheeks as she scrubbed. His heart ached and he reeled with shame and self-loathing.

Shaking his head, Will stepped into his boxers. "No," he finally said, "I can't. Or at least, not yet. Not until I've fully wrapped my head around just what's happening between us. You said it yourself: this was a one-time thing." He looked up at her then, his eyes dark and flashing with misery. "There's no sense in breaking her heart over nothing, right?"

Feeling Will's eyes on her, Abigail looked over at him. There was a sadness about him that she knew would come sooner or later, but it killed her to see it now. She walked up to him and hugged him.

"I've loved you since I was nineteen, Will, but I will  _not_  be a homewrecker. Well… I guess I already am, aren't I?" Abigail tried a laugh, but it came out forced. "Kiss me one more time before we go to the airport. Then we'll fly to Florida and get our heads on straight. Deal?"

When Abigail's arms threaded around his waist, Will stood there stock-still a moment, uncertain, before wrapping his own arms around her damp shoulders. "You're no such thing," he firmly said. "I could've put a stop to this at any time, but instead I just…I behaved selfishly and acted on my own needs and desires."

He gently passed a hand through her hair. A pain dug sharply in his chest from hearing that she'd loved him – undoubtedly  _still_  loved him – and he nuzzled into her cheek, still drifting his touch along her crown.

Abigail's request should have been simple (perhaps even reasonable), but it still gave Will pause. "We shouldn't," he whispered. "It won't make this any easier…"

The earnest look in her eyes coupled with the pain in his chest made Will nauseous, but he found himself cupping her cheeks, his thumb fondly brushing along her lips as he searched her eyes. Ever since their unfortunate first encounter, Will knew he would do anything for her. That feeling had never gone away.

Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her good ear, Will leaned forward and gently brushed his mouth against her own, savoring in the sensation of her skin and warm, hitched breath. Pressing forward more strongly, he claimed her lips and angled in with a needy desperation, his hands gripping at her arms as the kiss escalated in intensity.

Breaking the kiss with a regretful wince, Will pressed his forehead to hers and framed her face with his hands. "I'll always be sorry for what I've done to you," he whispered. Abigail deserved to be far away from him – far,  _far_  away – and yet he'd selfishly invited her to do nothing but  _depend_  on him to heal. In this way, he was no better than Hannibal. The thought made his stomach do several agonizing flip-flops. His desperation was clear, and maybe that was why, even though Abigail got what she wanted, her heart broke a little when he pulled away.

"Misery loves company. I'd rather you be that company than anyone else," Abigail softly said. She smiled a little as she let her hands slowly fall from his chest, the flannel soft under her fingertips.

"Are you ready to go?" Will weakly asked.

Abigail nodded as she said, "Yeah. I'll get my bag from my car on the way out. Unless you want to take my car to the airport?"

There was something oddly familiar about going on a trip like this. Maybe it was because of the trip to Minnesota back before she "died." Maybe it was because of the idea they were leaving in the dead of night at the last minute, and it reminded her of packing for Italy with Hannibal. Her stomach knotted at the thought of that night. This wasn't a trip for Hannibal. He wouldn't even know she was gone, and that was a good thing.

Abigail's hands still tightly gripped at Will's flannel, and he felt a dull stabbing in his chest as he looked into her eyes. "Well, heaven forbid that either of us be anything but miserable," he bitterly agreed. Brushing the hair back from her cheek, he assessed her plans and nodded.

"We should take my rental," he said. "It's a little bigger and more efficient for travel. Once we arrive, we can have someone come back for your car, especially since you'll probably feel a bit trapped if you can't drive."

Grabbing his suitcase, Will placed a hand on Abigail's shoulder and ushered her out into the hallway. There was a certain level of excitement in getting to start over in this way. As guilt-stricken as he was, he loved Abigail and couldn't find it in himself to be sorry for having shared this with her. They'd needed the reconciliation (as unorthodox and  _wrong_  as it was), and now with them both about to travel far, far away from Hannibal, he felt confident that they could finally heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long! Splicing together two long, multi-para/novella writers' replies is very time-consuming, and I honestly forgot about this fic for a while. But thank you to a lovely reviewer who gave me a friendly kick as a reminder! ;) I hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
